Zero to Hero!
by AeriaGloris10
Summary: Loosely based on the 1997 Disney movie, Hercules. Taken from his home among the European powers as an infant, America strives to become an independent country. Of course, the world always needs more dashing heroes. America/MexicoOC
1. The Twins' Arrival

**Well, I guess I should start explaining myself...**

**With my love of Disney movies and Hetalia combining in my head, I thought, "HEY! America wants to be a hero! Just like Hercules did! **

**It took me a few hours to get the cast straight in my head, and making sure the nations were not going to be perceived as the Greek Gods. NO, Russia does not live in the Underworld and host millions of dead people. NO, the rest of the European powers do NOT live on Mt. Olympus!**

**It's supposed to be a very loose adaptation, based on the basic plot elements of _Hercules_. **

**Please don't kill me before you start reading!**

* * *

A gentle hush fell over the hall as the gathered nations stood on their toes for a glimpse inside the bassinette China was slowly wheeling in. It was an eventful day for the world, eagerly awaited ever since six-month-old twin boys had been rescued from the wilderness of the New World. A land, until very recently, untouched by the European powers, and filled with great potential.

Two young men stood side by side, one the handsome Francis Bonnefoy, the nation of France. The other was the stoic, emerald-eyed nation of England, Arthur Kirkland. They silently approached the bassinette, all eyes on them at the center of the room. France was giddy with delight as England clasped and unclasped his hands with nerves.

This was the New World, only really explored by the Kingdom of Spain, whom they all knew as Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. The proof was standing beside him in the form of a black-haired little girl, wearing the clothes of a servant. She hid behind Antonio's leg, still too frightened to look at any of the other nations. She was the colony of New Spain, known only to her sovereign as Maria Teresa. Of course, that was not her real name, but as a colony of a great European power, her birth name did not matter. Her brown eyes watched carefully as the newest potential colonies arrived, feeling a certain connection pass through the three of them. She wondered to herself if she had known them…At least known their land.

The bassinette finally reached France and England, and they got a proper look at the twins. The boys were indeed identical, both with rich blond hair and round cheeks. They were swaddled in blankets, with only their arms sticking out and their tiny fists closed tightly. The hall was filled with noises of wonder as the nations remarked on the twins' cherubic faces. One of them suddenly stretched out his arm, hitting his brother on the forehead. The smaller twin's face suddenly scrunched up with pain and a whine sounded through the hall.

Immediately, Francis shoved Arthur aside and took the crying baby in his arms, cooing sweetly, "_Non non, mon petit ange! _Do not cry! I will protect you!" The nation cradled the whimpering boy to his chest, whispering calming words in French as the baby quieted down. He opened his dark violet eyes to stare up at his new sovereign.

Arthur glared at his rival and turned his gaze onto the second twin, whose brilliant blue eyes were wide open and eagerly wandering around the crowded hall, seeing the smiling faces of the gathered countries. His and Arthur's eyes met, and the boy thrust his arms out, laughter bubbling from his lips.

A rare smile appeared on Arthur's face, and he gently picked the squirming boy up. "Well, you're a lively one," he remarked softly. "My little America…"

The Chinese nation nodded with finality and a broad smile, declaring, "It is settled then, _aru_! England and France will be given the Americas as their colonies, _aru_."

Antonio added loudly, "With the lands west and south of New England in _my_ possession, of course?" He put his hand on Maria Teresa's head, making it clear that the colony was his.

England replied tersely, "Yes of course, Spain. You and France just make sure you keep your hands off of Alfred." Francis turned to Arthur and asked, "Alfred? That's his name?" He looked from the boy in England's arms to the one in his own and said, "Well then, _Nouvelle-France_. I will name you Matthieu. And someday, you will be as handsome as _moi!_"

Rolling his eyes, Arthur continued to look at Alfred, who fell asleep thanks to the gentle rocking provided by the sovereign nation. _I'll protect you, little one. No matter what._ Suddenly something bumped him from behind, and he turned to see a pair of violet eyes looking over his shoulder at the sleeping infant. "Oh, Russia! You scared me for a moment there."

The Tsardom smiled beatifically and remarked, "That little one you have with you will be quite powerful, England. We can expect great things from him, _da_?" England could only clear his throat nervously and attempt to answer, "Well…he's still such a small thing, Ivan. But of course, I'll try my utmost to mold him into a great colony. An example for all." He tried to shield Alfred from the larger man's view, but Ivan was already walking away from them, still smiling in a disarming way. Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia followed after him.

Once the doors closed behind Russia and the three smaller men, the room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. China shook his head and said, "That man gives me goosebumps, _aru!_"

Outside in the hallway, Russia walked with purpose as his three cronies sprinted after him. After a few minutes of silence, the large nation asked, "They will still leave the twins in the nursery here before taking them to their own homes, _da?_"

Latvia answered in a stutter, "Y-yes…The b-boys are to b-be officially declared c-colonies of England and F-France tomorrow." He watched as Russia paused thoughtfully. _What is he thinking?_

Suddenly Ivan turned to look at the three young men, making them jump at the same time. He continued to smile as he said, "That little America is going to become very powerful. It would be great shame if England let all that potential go to waste. _Nyet?_"

Estonia looked at Lithuania out of the corner of his eye. They knew what Russia meant by that. Biting his lip nervously, Estonia said, "Of course, Russia. It will be as you say."

They all walked towards their respective chambers, awaiting the arrival of night for them to put their plan into effect.

* * *

**You got the basic plot? You got who the characters are supposed to be? Good. You may commence throwing stuff at me! **

**Review, please!**


	2. And He Was Gone

**This is what happens when Aeria does not do homework and has no internet! She starts to type like a maniac...**

**Now I best be carrying on with my homework before England brings out his pirate gear and comes after me...**

**...That does NOT sound like a bad idea...**

* * *

Night had fallen upon the fortress far too swiftly for Arthur's taste, and he was left in the nursery. Francis had already made himself comfortable in his own chamber, much to England's annoyance. It seemed that he was the only one doing all the work in taking care of the babies, including sewing their names on their swaddling blankets.

He had just finished tucking Alfred next to Matthew and was giving them both soft kisses on their foreheads. He watched his colony yawn, his mouth forming a small "o" as he continued to squirm unconsciously.

Arthur laughed softly and whispered, "Goodnight Alfred and Matthew. I'll see you in the morning." Smiling at the twins, Arthur walked away from the bassinette and out of the room, closing the door behind him. Hopefully nothing would disturb the boys and everyone would sleep peacefully.

For a few minutes there were no sounds in the room. The boys slept peacefully, unaware that the door had opened or that three young men had entered.

Eduard made sure to close the door quietly, not wanting to alarm anyone sleeping nearby. The closest nation was Spain, and he nothing was going to wake _him_ up anytime soon.

Trembling slightly Estonia asked his companions, "What if England finds out it was us? He could get help from France and they'll BOTH get help from Spain!"

Toris chewed on his lower lip as he considered that possibility, and added, "He's right! We'll be pudding in seconds!"

Already standing by the bassinette, Raivis shushed the two older countries and whispered, "We'll be pudding sooner rather than later if you two don't shut up! Now help me pick him up…"

"What, you can't pick up a baby?"

"Of course I can't!"

"Here. Let me try…"

Lithuania grasped Alfred in his hands, but the boy could feel the difference. Reaching out he pulled on a strand of Matthew's hair.

Once again, the abused twin began to whimper, earning wide-eyed stares from the three countries.

"Oh…"

"…No…"

"Please!"

Eduard made to grab the younger twin and attempt to soothe him before he could make any noise, but the damage was done. Matthew's eyes opened and he began wailing in earnest. Panicking, Toris tucked Alfred in the crook of his arm and frantically asked Eduard, "Now what?"

Estonia had already figured that they would not be able to leave the way they came. Matthew's cries would surely alert the rest of the world, and they would be caught. An idea coming to him, he shoved Toris towards the window and unlatched it. "Jump out! Hurry!"

Lithuania stared at him as though he had suggested they give Russia pomegranate juice instead of vodka. "Are you serious?"

But Latvia cried, "We don't have time to argue, Toris! It's only two floors! Jump now!" They all but threw the frightened nation out the window, but he was able to land on his feet. Panting wildly, Toris peeked at the boy to make sure he was all right.

Alfred was still staring at him in bewilderment. He whimpered slightly, little tears appearing in the corners of his eyes. Toris began to run, Raivis and Eduard at his heels. The Lithuanian asked fearfully, "Where to? Russia's house?" All that stood between them and safety was the sprawling forest ahead of them.

Raivis nodded, trying to keep up with his counterparts. "Keep running. The other baby may have already woken someone up!" The three of them disappeared into the darkness of the forest, baby Alfred in tow.

His own cries were swallowed up by the trees.

Meanwhile, Arthur's eyes flew open when the sound of crying reached him. _Probably Matthew again…And I don't suppose Francis could be bothered to check on them._

Pulling the warm blanket from himself, England searched for the breeches he had saved for the next day, as well as a clean white shirt. At least it would give him an excuse to see Alfred before the ceremony. _I wonder if we'll get along at all. Judging from how he treats Matthew, he may be a bit headstrong…_

In two minutes he made it to the nursery and let himself inside.

He first noticed, apart from Matthew's continuous cries, that the window was open, letting the cold night air in. "What the…Who on earth left this open?" He walked over to shut it, catching a glimpse of the large forest outside.

"Alright, Matthew…I'll get to you in a moment…"Arthur reached the bassinette and stared down at it, at first not believing what he was seeing.

Matthew was indeed lying there, his legs kicking in frustration and his arms reaching upwards. His twin was missing.

Arthur blanched, feeling as though he was going to have a heart attack at any moment. He looked under the bassinette and around the nursery, trying to see if Alfred had fallen out. A wave of nausea rolled through him when he remembered the window, and he ran back to open it. He peered outside, afraid of what he might find. But there was no sign of Alfred below.

He went back to searching inside the room, calling out weakly, "Alfred? Alfred, come out! I mean it!" The babe could not have gotten too far…He was only a few months old, for goodness' sake. But if Alfred had been taken…

Arthur took Matthew from the bassinette and bolted out of the room, trying to find the nearest country. _Please, dear Lord…_The baby still crying on his shoulder, Arthur banged on Spain's door, yelling at the top of his voice, "Spain! For the love of God, wake up! It's urgent!"

The door was unlocked and opened, but it was not Spain, but New Spain, who looked at England in confusion, and perhaps a bit of fear. Arthur tried smiling at the girl, but failed miserably. She timidly asked, "¿_Esta todo bien, Señor Inglaterra?" (1)_

The blond nation could only reply with a weary, "Uhh…" But to his immense relief he heard a male voice coming towards them. "¿_Que es lo que pasa, Maria Teresa?" (2)_ Spain appeared, staring at England with confusion. "England! What on earth is happening? Why are you carrying Matthew?"

Arthur answered rapidly, "It's Alfred! He's disappeared, and I can't find him anywhere! The nursery window had been opened when I got there. He could be hurt or frightened…" He choked on his own voice, unable to continue.

Antonio narrowed his eyes and muttered an order to Maria Teresa, who nodded and ran back inside. The sovereign nation closed the door and said to England, "We should get the others. Take Matthew to France so he can keep him safe." He started to walk away in one direction before Arthur called him back, "Antonio! What about New Spain? Are you going to leave her by herself?"

Without looking back, Antonio answered, "She can handle herself, Arthur. Hurry, or else the kidnappers may escape us!"

"Right!" England grasped Matthew securely and started running back the way he came from. He just had to find Alfred. He had no idea what he would do if something happened to him.

_Alfred…_

Already quite a few miles away from the fortress, Toris was becoming tired. Alfred was a hefty child, and he had not stopped squirming since they had taken him. The older nation tried to calm the boy, saying soothingly, "It's okay, little one! You'll like Russia's house!"

Behind him, Raivis yelled, "Don't lie to him, Toris!"

They both heard Eduard's exhausted pants, and his breathless voice saying, "Guys…let's stop, please! My lungs are about to explode!"

Raivis and Toris decided to have mercy on Estonia, stopping to catch their breath for a few minutes. But Raivis looked behind them and said, "Alright, that's enough. We've got to keep moving. If any of them catch up to us…" He gave a visible shiver.

Toris was about to agree when Alfred cried out in delight, his arms reaching out to something behind them. Lithuania turned around and saw a small goat staring at them with beady eyes. _Well, that's weird…_ Suddenly it rammed the back of his shins, making Toris double over in pain. Latvia and Estonia yelped when they saw him and Alfred on the ground, and Raivis yelled angrily, "Be careful!"

Whimpering, Toris tried getting up but the goat pulled the baby out of his arms by grasping the blankets by its teeth. The three young men paled and made to grab the baby and the goat, but more of them had appeared in the clearing, still glaring at them threateningly.

The countries trembled with fear, backing away from the deadly herd. Toris asked Eduard, "Now what?"

"I only have one plan," Estonia replied as he turned heel and ran. Toris and Raivis gaped after him before following him.

"What the hell are we going to tell Russia?"

"I have no idea! Right now I just don't want to get my spleen trampled on by goats!"

As they disappeared, Alfred was gently placed on the ground by the goat, and his laughter rang through the silence.

_"Τι έχουμε εδώ...?" (3)_

In a few moments the goats parted to let their shepherd through. His thick brown hair was gently ruffled by the night breeze as he walked through his herd. He stared down at the child thoughtfully before bending down to pick him up. Heracles Karpusi held out his finger for the little one to grasp, and was surprised by the force of the baby's squeeze.

A small bit of red on the white blanket caught at Greece's attention and he checked it out. Someone had sewn on it _America_ and _Alfred_ right after. Smiling at the boy, Greece softly said, "No one is going to bother you anymore, Alfred."

Drawing his cloak around the both of them, Heracles took the boy home.

* * *

**Goats...Greece...My idea of Hetalia-esque humor. **

**(1) Is everything alright, Mr. England?**

**(2) What is happening, Maria Teresa?**

**(3) What do we have here? (probably a poor google translation. maybe Glass Silhouette can help me translate stuff phoenetically.)**

**Review, please!**


	3. To Feel Like I Belong!

**HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE, this one is LONG.**

**But yeah, I felt you all deserved it, and that I need to add more content if I want reviews. Note that Alfred does NOT have glasses yet, since those were territories he acquired from Mexico. But that comes later!**

**And ze Super Italy Bros. are here at last!**

* * *

The day was barely starting, the sun peeking out of the eastern horizon. Herds of sheep and goats grazed peacefully, completely undisturbed. Everything was going perfectly.

Though not everything was going as swimmingly for Heracles Karpusi.

"ALFRED, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, SLOW DOWN!"

"YEEEEHAAAAAWWW!"

All of the herds scampered at the sound of the rampaging approach.

A cart was being pulled by a mule, which was practically storming its way through the once-peaceful landscape.

At the reins was a boy of about 10, an excited grin on his handsome, yet still boyish face. Energy brimmed from his glowing blue eyes as he led the animal on. "We can't slow down, Heracles! We're makin' progress!"

"_Μητέρα, βοήθησέ με!__" (1)_

Sitting beside him on the cart, Greece kept his eyes shut in utter terror. He held fast to the cart, trying to keep himself from falling off. Thankfully they arrived in town, still in one piece.

Alfred leapt off, the resulting movement causing Heracles' stomach to lurch violently. The boy may have been small, but he possessed great strength that still managed to astound Greece, reminding him of his mother. Catching his breath the older nation carefully stepped off the cart and gently chided Alfred, "It was not necessary for us to arrive so early." But the young boy merely shrugged and responded, "It's a lot more fun!"

Looking around he spotted two younger boys roughhousing by the town square. One of them was holding the other in a merciless headlock.

Alfred smiled and turned to Heracles. "There's Lovino and Feliciano! I'm gonna go play with them!" Without waiting for a reply, he bounded off to join the two Italys.

Heracles gazed at the boy as he unloaded the merchandize, trying to figure out how he, a laid back nation, was going to handle such an energetic teenager. "Mother might've done a better job…"

Feliciano was somehow able to escape his brother's grip and eagerly waved to Alfred, "_Ciao, Alfredo! _Come on over!" He ran towards the blond nation and wrapped his arms around Alfred's neck, the two of them laughing boisterously. Lovino crossed his arms and said boastfully, "I bet your ass is still sore from the kicking I gave it last week, huh Alfredo?"

Alfred yelled back, "You caught me off guard! I'll kick your ass right now!" The wrestling had become a habit, along with Feliciano watching from the side lines and cheering his twin on.

Romano held out a broad palm and declared, "This time it'll be a fair fight, which means I'll have you on the floor in FIVE SECONDS."

"Yeah, like you know how to fight fair," Alfred retorted, grasping the elder twin's hand in his own. He squeezed once before Romano's amber eyes widened and he clenched his teeth in a very visible wince. The blond boy raised an eyebrow and asked, "Dude, are you okay? You don't look so good."

Feliciano had certainly noticed what had happened and immediately shouted in a high pitched, panicked voice, "Let him go, Alfred! _Ti prego!" _

Suddenly frightened, the taller boy released Romano's hand, and they all stared at the throbbing limb. The twins looked up at Alfred with something like fear, and they began to back away. Romano sputtered, "Uh, I th-think I hear Grandpa Rome calling us! Right, Feli?"

The red-haired Italy managed a small whimper before taking his brother's uninjured hand and running as far from Alfred as they could.

Alfred began running after them, calling desperately, "Hey, wait! Guys, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to…" But it was no use. It would be at least another month before the brothers would even consider playing with him. _They're even using their dead grandpa as an excuse._

He stared at the ground in embarrassment. It hadn't been the first time his strength had gotten him into trouble.

Two months ago Heracles had to pay for the damages caused to a shop by a disc Alfred had thrown. On numerous other occasions, his enthusiastic hugs almost broke spines. He was certainly not ignorant of the stares aimed at him and whisperings of "freak" he heard everywhere.

_What is wrong with me? _

The boy wandered back to Greece, who had managed to unload everything. The older country looked up in surprise and asked, "Weren't you going to play with those Italian brothers?"

Alfred clambered up onto the cart, his legs dangling towards the floor. "Not today, Heracles…I'd rather help you out."

Green eyes only gazed at him thoughtfully, but went back to their work, taking note of prices and inventory.

Once they returned to the farm, Alfred letting Heracles take the reins this time, the older nation took the boy's hand and sat him down on the bench in front of their cottage. Alfred's blue eyes looked up at his guardian questioningly before Greece began, "Alfred, I think I have a good idea of what happened in town today. You know, you should not let others bother you so much, in spite of what they may think-"

Alfred shot up, crying out in desperation, "Heracles, they're right! I know they call me freak, and they're totally right! I mean…I almost broke Romano's hand, and now they probably won't even talk to me again!"

Shuffling one foot on the ground, Alfred murmured, "I don't even think I belong here…I'm…out of place."

Heracles could only watch as the boy walked away from him, trying to figure out what he could say to him. _Perhaps it is time for me to tell him the truth…_

He went inside the cottage, deciding to leave Alfred alone for the moment, and to try and dig up that old swaddling blanket he had found along with the infant America. _Better he find out from me than someone else…_

The fields were devoid of people, leaving Alfred to ponder the possibilities.

Greece himself was still ruled by Turkey, and he did not seem to be as strong as his mother was. Alfred had been raised with stories of Ancient Greece's mythology, and the idea of democracy. He knew that the European powers were mostly monarchies, with pretty much no real representation for the subjects.

_If I were a nation, I'd be a democracy. Just like Ancient Greece was!_

His physical strength was out of place in such a small country, perhaps because he really did not belong there. _Then…where do I belong?_

Night had already fallen and he was still walking through the small forest near the farm. Perhaps Alfred could be a country, and if he could become one…

_I can be the strongest country ever! Not only that, but I can be a heroic country! _

But he looked up at the moonlit sky, still feeling as small as ever. "It's a stupid idea…"

Once he returned to the farm, he saw that Heracles was already waiting for him on the bench. The country was holding a piece of cloth with something embroidered on one of the corners. Alfred looked at his guardian curiously and was about to ask about the blanket.

Heracles began, "Alfred, come inside. There is something I must tell you."

What followed was one of the most unbelievable stories Alfred had ever heard. What was more, he was at the center of it.

Greece told him about the rumors that had reached him about new colonies discovered by England, France, and Spain. The colony claimed by England had been taken in the night, never to be seen again. It was on that night that Heracles had found Alfred, about to be taken by three countries that were followers of Russia.

It took a while for Alfred to fully understand. "Wait, wait! So…if you found me, then who left me there? Where did I come from?"

Heracles rolled his eyes, unable to believe how dense Alfred could be. "Alfred, take a look at this." He produced the blanket he had been holding earlier and showed Alfred the embroidered corner. "You were wrapped up in this when I found you. Read the words."

Alfred could see his name carefully embroidered in blue, along with another word above it. _America_, it said. Heracles said, "I believe that you are that lost colony, Alfred. That is why you have such strength."

The boy's grin widened. So then…he had been in the presence of the European powers…Not only that but he was _England's _colony. "Heracles, don't you see? If I go to the European countries, then they can teach me how to be a nation!" He took the blanket from Heracles and said, "I'll go to them, and then everything'll be great!"

"And…you _will_ be great, Alfred."

Upon hearing his guardian's small voice, the boy turned, ashamed at his insensitive words. He looked down at his feet before walking towards the country and enveloping him in a gentle hug. He felt Greece's muscular arms wrap around him, and Alfred managed to whisper, "Heracles…I wanna thank you for everything…I won't forget you, okay?"

Heracles smiled into the boy's hair, whispering back, "Why would you remember someone like me? Compared to my mother, I am nothing."

Immediately Alfred pulled back and said with a determined look, "That's not true! You're an awesome country, Greece! One day, you're gonna kick Turkey's ass, and you'll be your own nation too!"

Greece chuckled and answered, "That would certainly be nice."

Even if Greece didn't believe it, Alfred certainly did.

The next morning Alfred set off after exchanging goodbyes with Heracles. The older country had directed him towards the lands beyond the forest, where the great powers of the world resided. Armed with the swaddling blanket, a walking staff, and a cloak, Alfred prepared to make his case before the Europeans.

He remembered that he had been considered England's colony, but Alfred did not intend on staying that way.

_All my strength…it's gotta be for something bigger other than being a colony!_

In a few hours he was standing before the large doors of the fortress, the high walls almost intimidating.

The boy swallowed, trying not to turn and run back. "I'm America…I'm _America!_...What does that even _mean?_"

Raising a knuckle, he knocked three times. If no one came, he would just go back and try not to break Greece's house. At least he was good at farming…

But one of the doors opened slightly, revealing the pale face of a man, his long, black hair in a ponytail. "Yes? What do you want, _aru?_"

Wang Yao's brown eyes looked upon Alfred's small, muscular form. The boy's skin was light, but still sun-kissed, and his blond hair had a careless, yet appealing look to it. _Something's familiar about this kid…_

Alfred finally thought to pull out the blanket, clearing his throat and declaring in a boastful voice, "Tell them that _America's_ back! I'm Alfred, and I'm the colony that was taken from you guys!"

"What on earth are you talking about, _aru?_" Yao took the blanket and examined it carefully, spotting the embroidery on one of the corners.

He heard the boy continue, "I was found wrapped in that when I was a baby."

Suddenly China had a flash of recognition. The embroidery was familiar…He had seen it on another occasion.

_Canada's old blanket…_

Yao's gaze shot up and he exclaimed, "No way!" Suddenly he grasped Alfred's wrist and pulled him inside, ignoring the boy's surprised cries. "What the hell, man? Quit yanking me! I'm America!"

"Quiet, child," China admonished. If this boy really was who he claimed…_This changes everything!_

Alfred tried not to trip as the man dragged him across many hallways, and they finally reached another set of doors. China opened them and pushed the boy inside.

The sight nearly made him shrink back.

Hundreds of eyes were upon him. The people were wearing clothing worthy of a grand ball, making Alfred feel shabby in his peasant clothes.

Behind him, the man called out, "Where is France? This is of utmost importance, _aru_!"

The crowd parted and Alfred swallowed thickly. _Crap…France…He's probably gonna be some big, muscular guy!_

But the man approaching was neither of those things. The man had silky, golden locks that reached his shoulders. His face was…beautiful. He was dressed in the finest clothing, and though he was tall, he was not very muscular.

Alfred exclaimed, "Dude, you look like a chick!"

The crowd gasped in unison, and France blushed hotly. He pointed at the chortling Alfred and yelled, "_Mon Dieu!_ Who the hell is this insolent child you bring before me?"

Wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, Alfred answered, "Name's Alfred. But I guess you all know me as…_America_."

Another ripple went through the crowd, and whispers made their way around the great hall. France raised an eyebrow as he walked around Alfred, scrutinizing him. "How can this be…?"

China once again produced the blanket, and France's eyes widened in shock. He looked upon Alfred's face more carefully, and for an entire minute did not say anything.

It seemed as though everyone were holding their breath, waiting for the country's verdict.

Suddenly France's hand touched Alfred's cheek, and he breathed out, "You look just like…_mon petit Matthieu…_Your twin brother!"

A jolt went through Alfred as he processed the new information. "Hang on…I have a brother?"

He was not without jealousy. He had watched Romano and Feliciano's interaction with some longing, and he often wished for someone to share that kind of relationship with. But not only did he have a brother. He had a twin. _That means…he's just like me!_

He shifted excitedly from one foot to the other as the other countries milled around him. One of them kneeled beside him and said, "_Pero que milagro…(2)_ England will be overjoyed."

At that, Alfred remembered England, and asked France, "So where's England? They told me that I was _his_ colony!"

The other countries exchanged uneasy looks, and Spain was the one who answered softly, "Arthur was not the same after you disappeared…He conducted his business with the rest of the world but he still lives in seclusion."

France happily interjected, "But that is in the past now! We will call England to us, and America will once again become his colony!"

There were general sounds of agreement at that, but Alfred felt uneasy. They still thought of him as a colony, and were deciding his future for him. He raised his voice over the others' and said, "Hey, I didn't come here to become England's colony! I came here to find out who I am…and to become a country, just like you guys!"

His fists were clenched as he stared back defiantly at their outraged faces. France and Spain exchanged mortified glances before the swarthy man lamented, "This is just like my Maite (3) all over again…"

France dramatically threw his arm over his eyes and cried tearfully, "Why are you colonies so ungrateful? Matthew left me to join with that crumpet-eating jerk! Maria Teresa went ahead and had a revolution to separate from Spain! Where did we go wrong?" His blue eyes looked at Alfred imploringly.

The boy merely shrugged and replied, "I'm way too strong to be a colony. I'm strong enough to stand beside the rest of you. So…" He placed his hands on his hips and looked up at them, a dare in his voice.

"Which one of you wants to teach me all about being a country?"

The European powers continued to stare at each other uneasily. It seemed as though none of them wanted to take Alfred under their wing if it meant not having him as a colony. Finally, Spain was the first to give up, and said, "You will still have to go to England, America. After all, he was your intended sovereign. It is only right that he teach you how to become a nation, if that is what you truly want."

Alfred groaned inwardly. It was not going exactly as planned, but he was getting somewhere. _I'll just have to tell this England dude that I'm not gonna be his colony. _Steeling himself, he said, "Fine. I'll go to England. So, if you could just point me in the quickest way over there…"

France had other ideas though. He waggled his finger at Alfred and said, "Do you think we will just let you go on your own? _Non, non, non!_ You will need a guide, and I know just who it shall be!"

Behind him, China tapped his shoulder and said, "I have already brought him over, _aru_." The two men moved aside to reveal a mirror.

Only it was not a mirror. It was a boy about the same size as Alfred, if not an inch shorter, less muscular, and dressed in much finer clothes. The boy's violet eyes widened behind his glasses, and he smiled faintly.

Alfred stared at his brother, surprised and somehow…disappointed. He had expected someone that shared his walk and his overall nature, but he could tell that this guy was not at all like him.

First of all, his hair was a bit…poofy. And his voice was far too quiet when he said, "Hello…I'm Canada. You can call me Matthew. Wow…So you're my big brother?"

Alfred shrugged and thought, _Beggars can't be choosers,_ and went over to give his brother a pat on the back. "Yep! The name's Alfred. Pleased to meet ya, Mattie!"

To his surprise, Matthew did not crumple to the ground in pain when Alfred's hand hit his back. He merely smiled gently and shook Alfred's hand. His grip was certainly strong enough, and this convinced Alfred that he would grow to like his brother.

Once they were outside the great hall, Matthew said, "You're going to like Arthur. I'm sure of it!"

Alfred was running his hand through his hair, wondering how everything had changed overnight. "His name is Arthur? That's cool. Say, I thought you were _France's_ colony. Why are you England's?"

Matthew looked away sheepishly and answered, "It's not because he wanted to replace you or anything…They said Arthur loved you very much. It was an argument between him and France. Arthur ended up winning, and I ended up being his colony."

That further disconcerted Alfred. He demanded, "If you're as strong as me, how come you won't become a country of your own?" His brother merely continued to stare ahead and replied, "Arthur's really good to me…And I'm not really his colony. I have a Prime Minister to represent my people, and not a governor. But hey." He looked up at Alfred and grinned gently. "I can still guide you to where England is. I'm guessing he's still in his 'secret spot.'"

Deciding to drop the subject of colonies, the elder twin asked once they were outside, "What's England's 'secret spot?'"

"The Isle of Iona."

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**(1) Mother, help me!**

**(2) But what a miracle!**

**(3) Maite is a nickname for Maria Teresa.**

**Oh Canada...How I love thee...Yeah, he's supposed to be the Pegasus figure of the story. **

**Alfred: Really? -grabs Matthew and headbutts him-**

**Matthew: X_X Ow...**

**READ AND REVIEW! It makes me update faster!**


	4. The Mentor and American Expansion

**Phew...First semester of college, DONE. Hopefully this one's a bit longer as a reward for your waiting. **

**Prepare for a sudden onslaught of Pity-for-Iggy. A reminder: Alfred and Matt are supposed to be about ten years old.**

* * *

Alfred could not help but watch his brother expertly handle the rudder, even as the waves surrounding them threatened to capsize their small boat.

The two had set off the day after Alfred had arrived in the fortress, allowing Matthew to properly clothe his sibling for the journey. The younger twin had insisted on letting America sleep on his warm, comfortable bed while he took a small cot. His brother accepted without protest.

Now they were a few miles away from Iona, the Alfred squinting as he tried to make out the island's rocky outline in the rain. He yelled to Matthew, "That's Iona? It's not even England anymore! It's pretty much Scotland!"

He heard Matthew's reply over the sound of the wind, "Scotland and Arthur have an agreement! The weather's usually not this rough when I come visit, but I guess it's the season for storms."

It was a bit cold for Alfred's taste, so he fastened his coat so it was snug against his body. There were still many questions nagging him, but some of them could wait to be answered by England himself. For now he asked his brother. "Hey, Mattie! France, England, and Spain were supposed to be, like, _the_ most powerful nations of the world, right?"

"Yes, that's the general assumption."

"So, how come they don't look it?"

He watched Canada eye the waves thoughtfully before the nation replied, "Well, think about it. The two of us don't look like much, and we're pretty powerful."

The storm was becoming less intense, and Alfred grinned at his brother. "You're a smart guy, Mattie. You know…that makes me wonder about Spain's colony. What kind of guy is he?"

To his surprise, Canada stared at him in confusion for a few seconds before bursting into breathless laughter. "_HA!_ Oh, my…If Mexico ever found out…that you called her a guy…!"

Wide-eyed, Alfred cried out, "Mexico's a _CHICK?_"

Panting with mirth, Matthew nodded. "I haven't seen Teresa in ages, since she became independent herself. She's a little bit older than us. From what France told me, she came from the same place we did, but was discovered by Spain. He raised her, taught her his customs, and pretty much made her a smaller version of himself, called New Spain.

"Soon she surprised everyone and declared independence from Spain, and that started a huge war between them. Everyone thought Teresa would lose, but by some miracle she managed to win, and named herself Mexico. What do you think about that?"

"…Is she cute?"

That earned him a roll of Matthew's violet eyes. "I just got through telling you that I haven't seen her in a long time! Francis practically forbade it! He thought it'd give me ideas…" He trailed off, continuing his steering towards the island.

They made their way towards a wooden pier jutting out into the water. With the efficiency of custom, Matthew roped their boat to the pier and helped Alfred out.

The storm had softened to a light drizzle, allowing the twins to walk through the muddy ground as they made their way towards a stone cottage situated on a hill.

Smoke billowed lazily to the sky, and Alfred was again reminded of who exactly was inside.

_What if he doesn't like me? He might not want to teach me about being a country if I don't want to become his colony._

The very thought of England's rejection sent shivers through Alfred's already cold body. Everything depended on England's guidance.

Ahead of him, Matthew was already smiling as he raised a fist to knock on the wooden door. He turned to Alfred and jovially said, "He should be out in a little while-"

"_BUGGER OFF!"_

Matthew's smile turned into a humiliated grimace as Alfred stared at the cottage in shock. His brother quickly explained, "Um…He's probably tired, that's all! He's usually so busy, that-"

"_TELL THAT PRAT, FRANCE, THAT HE STILL OWES ME BACK FROM TWO WEEKS AGO, YOU HEAR?"_

Trying not to laugh out loud, Alfred identified the slur in England's voice. "So…_that's_ England? Sounds like a fun guy."

His twin rubbed the nape of his neck frantically, still trying to find an explanation. "He didn't know we were coming, so he must've started drinking…_ARTHUR!" _He began banging on the door in earnest. "_Please_, for the love of God, put some pants on and come downstairs! It's me! Canada! I've brought someone important!"

They heard groaning noises coming from inside the cottage, followed by a series of heavy thuds as England made his way to the door.

It finally opened, and the two boys peered up at a disheveled young man with the _thickest_ eyebrows Alfred had ever seen. Dark circles framed his green eyes, and he was dressed in a wrinkled white shirt, and black pants.

He looked as though he were bordering between being drunk and having a hangover.

One of his hands reached up to wipe an eye as he squinted at the twins at his doorstep, and he slurred, "Matthew, lad, there are _four_ of you, now!"

The boy could not believe what he was witnessing. In a great show of outrage he yelled at his brother, "_This_ is the great England? One of the greatest European powers in the world? Come _on!_ This guy's got freaking caterpillars for eyebrows!"

Matthew was staring at him in utter shock, and he tried to pacify a deeply offended England. "He didn't mean it, Arthur! Honestly!" However the nation glared at Alfred dangerously, and he growled at Matthew, "Just who does this young upstart think he is?"

"Well, he's…um…He's America, Arthur. My brother showed up at the fortress yesterday."

Arthur and Alfred only continued to glare at each other, the older man crossing his arms and replying sarcastically, "Of course he is! And I'm Prince Albert. Someone get me my crown, for I'm of to pick flowers with dear Victoria! Nice try, lad." He pulled Matthew inside and whispered to the flustered boy, "Honestly, Matthew! Can't you tell when you're being had?"

He was about to shut the door on Alfred when the boy pulled out the blanket from his satchel. "It's true! Look, I can prove it!" He shook the embroidered corner in Arthur's face. "Greece was the one who raised me! He said I was wrapped in this when he found me in the forest.

"It's how he knew to name me Alfred."

He waited patiently as Arthur paused and stared at the piece of cloth in Alfred's hand, his expression going from skeptical to…hopeful?

The young man pulled Alfred by the collar to examine him a bit more closely, and comparing him to Matthew. Seeing them both together…It reminded him of the few hours he had spent with them when they were still babies. Those brief moments of true happiness before Alfred had been taken from him.

After looking at the names he had embroidered himself with so much love for the infant he stared at Alfred, trying to bring to mind that innocent little face with eyes that could blaze like sunlight, yet have a glint of mischief. Oh yes, he was definitely sober now. He kneeled so he would be at eye level with the boy and his hands slowly reached up to grasp his arms. It wasn't at all rough, but gentle. As though he were handling something precious.

Alfred felt initial discomfort at England's touch, but the way his ancient green eyes looked at him stirred something inside him. He realized that he and England – no, he and _Arthur_ – had shared contact such as this before. This was the man who was supposed to have been his parent. Suddenly the injustice of what had been done to them came to Alfred's mind. He had been robbed of Matthew and Arthur, even though being reared by Greece was one of the best things to happen to him.

Once they were all inside Arthur cleaned himself up, every so often pausing to look at the two boys. Matthew had already busied himself and Alfred by having his brother take a look at the maps of the New World, explaining just how the territories were divided between the two of them. When Alfred could catch a glimpse of Arthur looking at them, he could see the kindness in those green eyes of his. _I wonder what he'll say when I tell him I won't be his colony…_

The Englishman had laid out tea for them. Alfred observed his brother drinking the stuff as comfortably as if he were drinking milk. He didn't know if he could get used to the tea, and from what he had been told by Heracles, the English drank it all the time.

Arthur joined them on the couch, a smile on his weary face. He began slowly, "I must admit…I truly didn't expect to see you again, Alfred." A cloud of fury emerged in his eyes, though his face remained pleasant. "When we never found out who took you from us, we thought you dead. All we could do was look after the colonies we had left. Of course, Matthew will have told you all about _Mexico_." The name rolled off his tongue like a curse, and Alfred had to stifle a laugh.

Running his hand across his golden locks, Arthur laughed breathlessly. "Just think, lad. Matthew's already governing himself, but you can finally take your place as a colony of England." He reached towards the table and unfurled one of the maps of America's Atlantic coast. "The colonies will extend from Maine to Georgia, seeing as how Florida is still in Antonio's possession-"

"Um, Arthur…It's not that I don't appreciate all this, really. But…" Alfred grinned at the older nation boldly, while Matthew tensed beside him as though awaiting a disaster. "Arthur, I want to become my own country! And not with a Prime Minister that answers to England. I want to be fully independent!"

The younger twin immediately jumped up to placate a still-silent England, "H-he didn't talk to Mexico at all, Arthur! No one talked him into this."

Arthur, however, was still trying to process what Alfred had just blurted out. The smile disappeared and there was only emptiness in his gaze.

_He…He doesn't want to be my colony…_

He hardly heard the boy's small voice. "I'm sorry, Arthur…But…I _know _I'm strong enough to stand by myself. I really hope you understand."

The English nation knew his hands were trembling, even as he tried to hide them beneath the table. At least the lad was honest with him. "It's…it's alright, Alfred. I understand…So." He raised his gaze to Alfred's, serious all of a sudden. "Just how do you intend to go about becoming a country? From what I've gathered about your life with Greece, you don't have much experience in government or leading a nation. After all, he's still under Turkey's control."

Alfred, relieved that Arthur understood and did not seem too hurt, answered steadily, "That's where you come in, Arthur. As strong as I am…I still need yours and Matt's help. Once I get it done, I can take over leading the country with the democracy Ancient Greece came up with."

For the third time that afternoon, Arthur stared at Alfred blankly. "Democracy…? Good God…"

As painful as it would be Arthur knew he would have to, once again, let Alfred go. At least now he knew that the boy was safe, and that Matthew would never let his brother get into trouble.

Soon the trio left Iona and set off for America, arriving safely thanks to Matthew's navigation. Alfred stepped onto the shores of _his_ country. So different from the shores of Europe, and yet he still felt like he was home.

Years passed.

The country grew and with it America. Alfred F. Jones.

He expanded the country to the west as he grew into a tall, muscular young man. Arthur made sure to keep him in fighting shape by teaching him military tactics and recounting the ancient battles of Britannia.

Matthew also grew alongside his brother. The twins' once round faces gained the sharp angles of adulthood yet still retained boyishness that made them look aloof and handsome. The Canadian nation's violet gaze remained wide eyed and innocent behind his glasses. America's bold, sky-blue eyes looked as sharp as eagle eyes, but to their collective surprise his sight was his one weakness. He often had to squint to read words an arm's length away. Arthur once thought of rectifying the problem by having Matthew and Alfred take turns wearing the Canadian's spectacles. However it turned out that the younger twin's sight was twice as bad as the elder's, so that idea was scrapped.

It was on one particular day when Arthur and Matthew were watching Alfred racing across the Montana landscape on his horse that the Englishman was trying to come up with a solution. Borrowing Matthew's glasses was one thing, since they were brothers. But any other pair would just not do. It would be giving America more land, whether it be from overseas or from one of the bordering countries. Matthew was not an option, and the only one left was _Mexico_. Frankly Arthur did not want either of the boys dealing with _her_. It was not only that she had betrayed her sovereign. She was annoyingly smug about her victory over Spain and flaunted her new independence shamelessly.

"Al's breaking his own record! Just look at him, Arthur!" Matthew's voice was still as soft as lamb's wool, even though he had grown into manhood at the same time as his brother.

Arthur, feeling a bit out of place in his tailored suit while the twins wore typical cowboy clothing, let his gaze be drawn by the galloping silhouette. Alfred had certainly become skilled, and had surprised England with how fast he had learned everything.

America was a modern country, boasting the ever-growing cities of New York, Chicago, and St. Louis. His people were always on the move, whether it be to other cities or the West, building their own homesteads that slowly grew into towns. The young man was alive with adrenaline, sometimes unable to believe that he had accomplished so much. _I'm America. The Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave. The most modern country in the world!_

His stallion snorted in exertion, so he finally stopped in front of Arthur and his waiting brother. "How do ya like that, Artie? Still think I'm not ready to join the World Conference?"

"A little respect for the English language, Alfred," Arthur muttered as America dismounted. One of his conditions had been that Alfred was not to join him in the fortress until he was truly ready to emerge as a country. The young man had always displayed jealousy towards his brother, who _was_ allowed to go. Now that he was a man, he refused to be delayed by England any longer.

He exclaimed, "Come _on_, Artie! I don't wanna be stuck here all the time! I wanna talk to some of them other countries. You know? The ones where all my people come from! Hungary's such a babe…" He started drifting off, a leer on his face. He had never formally met any of the other countries, but had seen them in passing and knew about them once Matthew pointed them out. "And I wouldn't mind getting a look at that hottie, Japan."

Arthur's thick eyebrows shot up in surprise at that. "Y-you think Japan's attractive?"

Matthew quickly muttered to his brother, "Al, you do know Japan's a man, right?"

"...No _way!_ Well, how the hell was I supposed to know? The guy never lets anyone get a goddamn look at him! Artie, you can't keep me out of the loop like this!" Alfred was practically begging at this point, even as he looked down at his mentor (He _was_ pretty tall). "You've gotta let me go to the Conference! Please!"

Rubbing the back of his neck in exasperation, Arthur sighed and replied, "Fine. We might as well get it over with anyway. The sooner the others recognize you as a country, the better."

"_YEAHOO!_" Alfred let out a boisterous yell and grabbed his brother's wrist, pulling him along towards the barn where the other horses were held. "Let's hit the road!"

Arthur called after them, "Hang on! Aren't you going to wash up first?"

America yelled back, "Forget it! When I walk in, they'll be too busy admiring my good looks to nitpick! You could use some dirt under your nails, En-gah-land!"

"Al, quit being an asshole!"

"INSOLENT CHILDREN!"

They were on the trail again, heading back East on horseback. Alfred and Matthew were pictures of confidence upon their saddles while Arthur still struggled to stay upright. He never understood why since he had once been a proficient rider. _I'm getting old, _he thought, even though he still looked like the same young man in his 20s.

Still, the pace was strenuous, and in a few hours they were entering the Southwest territories. Small towns and the occasional forests appeared, and there was more Spanish spoken than English.

The trio stopped to water their horses at a spring, Alfred leaning on a tree and fanning himself with his hat. He wondered idly if he would still seem heroic in spite of his young age. After all he had built a great country and given a home to many immigrants. _Hopefully they won't notice a problem with my eyesight._ He put his hat back on and asked, "How much longer?"

Arthur used his wet cloth to wipe his sweaty face, answering, "A few days to a week, probably. America's a vast land, and we still need to cross the Atlantic before-"

"KEEP YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF, _MALDITA RANA!_" (1)

The men and horses jumped at the sound of the shrieking. It was a woman's voice, followed by the sound of frantic splashing.

Immediately Matthew caught the look of excitement on his brother's face.

Alfred mounted his horse and asked with a grin, "Hey, Artie! Your people would call that a 'Damsel in Distress,' right?"

Arthur straightened up, his eyebrows furrowed with annoyance. "Don't tell me you're actually thinking about-"

Too late. Alfred was already galloping off towards the sound of the splashing. Arthur yelled after him, "Bloody idiot! Don't just go charging in!"

He clambered off his horse as Matthew mounted his. The Canadian shook his head as he let his horse trod after Alfred's. "Looks like my brother's discovered girls…"

* * *

**-head hits keyboard- I SWEAR I will get to work on the next chapter IMMEDIATELY. I think you can all safely guess who the little lady's gonna be?**

**(1) DAMNED FROG! (BET YOU CAN'T GUESS WHO THIS IS!)**

**Read and review!**


	5. There Will Be Chicks and Angry Russians

**Daily updates? I am taking advantage of my break. THAT, and I've been writing this in my head for the past couple of days. **

* * *

Two pairs of legs splashed through the water, disturbing the area's tranquility. A young woman in a short-sleeved powder-blue shirt and flowing navy skirt was fleeing from her pursuer, all the while trying to keep her spectacles in place as well as her hair bun, which threatened to come undone with her every movement.

Alfred observed all of this as he approached the clearing, which led to a large pool where the waterfall cascaded. He dismounted, about to go to the woman's aid just as she stumbled into the water. The pursuer was finally in sight, and Alfred was surprised to see that it was Francis.

France was dressed not in his courtly, aristocratic manner, but like a soldier. His weapons were all put away, yet there was still a determined and predatory edge in his face.

While the woman was attempting to get back on her feet, the taller nation grasped her by the dark green cloth wrapped around her shoulders. Pulling her up, he sneered, "Looks like the _mademoiselle _isn't as strong as she boasts!"

The woman scowled, fury in her dark brown eyes, and growled, "Cocky bastard! If you don't let me go right now, I'll…I'll…!" She raised her hand to slap Francis, but he caught her wrist. His unsettling grin could not be broken, even as the woman struggled in his grip.

It seemed to Alfred that his assumptions about Francis were wrong. He could be a very threatening country if he put his mind to it.

But to practically force himself on everything that moved…Alfred clenched his teeth, taking long strides towards the two. He'd be damned before he left a damsel in distress! After all, it was a hero's job to save those in danger.

Just arriving were Matthew and Arthur, who felt shudders of recognition when they spotted France and the woman with glasses.

Arthur leapt off his horse and called in a loud whisper, "Alfred! _Alfred!_ Get your arse back here! You don't know what you're doing!"

Matthew stared nervously, recognizing the woman in France's arms. "This won't end well…Not for Al or Francis."

The young woman had placed her hands on Francis's face, trying to keep his lips at least arm's length from her body. There seemed nothing she could do about his hands, since they still roamed her body eagerly. They both stopped struggling when they heard someone loudly clearing their throat.

Alfred maintained a determined look, even as the two glared at him as if he were an unwelcome intruder.

However Francis smiled in recognition as Alfred approached, and tore his face from the woman's grasp. "_Bonjour_, Alfred! My, my! You certainly _have_ grown! Don't mind me; I am just having a little conversation with this young lady…" Francis suddenly winced, as the woman had just kicked him in the shin. He still managed to keep his grip.

America shrugged even as he itched to punch France's face in. "It actually looks like you're taking _advantage_ of the _señorita_, France. And, in case you didn't notice, you're in _my_ territory, so I think it'd be best if you-"

"Hey, _güero!_ (1) Why don't you mind your own business and run along back to your wet nurse!" The young woman continued to look at him as though he were a nuisance.

The fire in those dark eyes caught Alfred by surprise, and he stared for a few seconds before blinking in confusion. Something was off about this girl. "Wait…Aren't you…in distress? You know? In need of help?"

Again she tried sliding out of France's grip, but his grasp was annoyingly persistent. "Obviously! But I can handle this, trust me! Now…" This time she turned to look at him in the face, smiling indulgently even as she said coolly, "Why don't you leave this to the grown ups? _Buen dia!_" (2)

It took Alfred a moment to recover from that look she gave him, the sheer brilliance in her eyes hitting him like lightning. Behind him he heard Arthur's distinctive huff and Matthew's giggling. He shook his head to recover and cleared his throat, his voice suddenly deeper. "Miss, you may be too in shock to realize that you're in a bit of a scrape. But don't worry." Alfred clasped France's shoulder in his broad hand. "I have it all under con—_OOF!_"

The two men observing winced as Francis's punch caught Alfred's cheek, sending him flying two feet away and splashing into the water. Arthur glared at his rival through narrowed eyes, bristling with anger when the prick said victoriously, "No hard feelings, eh Alfred?" He went back to trying to heave the woman over his shoulder, her struggles becoming stronger.

Arthur caught Matthew about to make his way towards his fallen brother, but the Englishman grabbed his arm and yelled, "Get back here! Alfred has to finish this on his own! And besides, I highly doubt _she's_ going to need much help!" Canada turned to look at him in confusion, just as Alfred slowly shot straight up out of the water, sputtering and groaning.

He was getting to his feet, about to make his way towards France again. _Damn Frenchie…Where is he…?_

The woman called out towards Matthew and Arthur, "Hey! You two! Mind telling me what the date is, _por favor?_"

The older nation remained silent while Matthew answered, "Uh…May 5th, I think. Why?"

"Perfect." She turned her dark gaze back to her captor and said sweetly, "Well, _mi pequeña ranita_,(3) you're about to find out why you should never mess with _The Mexican Empire_. And by the way, _güero_, you're in MY territory."

She swiftly pulled her free arm back and elbowed Francis in the chin. The man yelped in pain and surprise while Mexico reached over and took both his sword and gun.

Alfred, Arthur, and Matthew all gaped as the Mexico stood over France, his eyes bulging in terror at having his own weapons aimed at him. And quite expertly as well. Her long, dark brown tresses had long come undone, framing her teak-colored face as her eagle gaze was aimed towards France. "I don't think we'll be having this problem again, right Francis?"

The nation stammered slightly before splashing back to his feet and running as fast as he could. "RETREAT!"

The four still at the now silent pool watched as France disappeared into the horizon. Mexico smiled in satisfaction and fastened both the sword and gun to her waist, using her _rebozo _(4) to secure them. She glided across the water, ignoring the three men gaping at her. Arthur and Matthew ran into the water, helping Alfred to his feet.

The Englishman was quick to start admonishing Alfred, "Are you completely out of your mind? France is a nation as old as I am! Did you honestly think you could stand a chance against him?"

The twins rolled their eyes as Arthur continued, his voice rising in volume, "You need to assess the bloody situation! That wasn't any woman! That was _Mexico_, a nation with more fighting experience than you! Oh, yes. You want to be a bloody hero, but you manage to get your arse kicked and have a _woman_ take over in less than a minute!"

Alfred drew his fingers across his wet hair, beginning to get annoyed. "Hey! I loosened him up a bit for her!" He was about to point out that England had done nothing to help him when he noticed that the young woman was still behind Arthur, combing her waist-length hair with her fingers.

Arthur's voice slowly faded away, "Next time, don't let your guard down because of a pair of pretty eyes! Are you listening to me…?"

Of course he wasn't. Alfred continued to gaze beyond Arthur's shoulder, staring as Mexico removed her spectacles, looking much lovelier without them on. She caught his gaze, her brown eyes curious as she used the corner of her _rebozo_ to wipe her glasses clean.

The American suddenly started walking towards her, leaving Arthur with an accusing finger in the air.

Arthur glared at Alfred's back, seething at Matthew through gritted teeth, "Matthew, that brother of yours is treading a _fine_ line…"

"Yes, sir."

Mexico was bent over now, trying to wring the water from her skirt, her shapely bottom in the air as Alfred approached her. He noticed a small medallion on a gold chain hanging from her neck. Grinning charmingly, America said down to her, "Those were some good moves there, _señorita_. Mexico, was it? Nice, but I didn't catch _your_ name…"

She straightened up, her long mane of hair nearly hitting him. Sternly, she answered, "I am the Mexican _Empire_, and don't you forget it. But…you can call me Teresa." She put her glasses back on and pushed her medallion back inside her shirt, her smile making Alfred feel warm.

Teresa was gathering her thick hair and arranging it in a bun on top of her head, continuing, "So, _güero_. Do you have a name, or can I just stick to calling you _güero?_"

Alfred grinned goofily, his blush now visible. "You can call me whatever you like…"

"His name is America." Arthur and Matthew had finally reached them, a sour expression on the older man's face. "Well, Miss Hidalgo, I certainly was not expecting to see you again."

Teresa dipped her head to him in polite greeting. "Still got that stick up your ass, eh _Inglaterra?_" She spotted Matthew and smiled genuinely. "It's good to see you again, _Mateo_. So you two actually found Alfred?" She turned to look at Alfred, who seemed surprised that she knew his real name. "What? I was there when you and Matthew first showed up! I just didn't recognize you at first. Of course it was obvious once these two showed up."

Feeling much more confident, Alfred grinned and laughed boisterously. "Well take a look at us now! The Americas, all back together again! Me, Mattie, and Teresa! Completely independent countries! Well…except for Matt."

Said twin groaned.

Still smiling, Alfred held his hand out and attempted in his most gentleman-like voice, "If you'll let us, we'd be happy to escort you to the World Conference. We're headed there right now!"

Teresa's eyes seemed to widen behind her glasses, and she replied, "Um…I actually have business to attend to before I leave for the Conference…And besides," she added in a not so quiet whisper, "I don't think England likes me very much."

"You're damn right I don't, you saucy little tart!"

"Arthur!"

Rubbing the nape of his neck, Alfred ignored his brother's attempts to placate Arthur in the background. He asked Teresa with a trace of worry, "You sure? I mean I wouldn't want you to run into anymore trouble."

She laughed softly, waving her hand elegantly as though making his concern disperse. "Don't worry about me. I'm a tough country. I've got my own army and everything." She elbowed his arm gently and grinned at him, her glasses glinting as she turned and walked back into the woods. "_Hasta luego, güero_." (5)

Alfred slowly raised his hand to wave as she disappeared, still wearing a half-grin as he breathily said, "Bye…" Beside him Matthew was smiling in with amusement while Arthur fumed.

America shook his dazed head and sighed, "Whoa…Dude…That Teresa's something…Right?"

His brother replied, "Yeah. I'd forgotten how pretty she is."

Arthur however, answered quietly, "Yes…She's quite attractive…for a BLOODY SOVEREIGN BETRAYING PAIN IN THE ARSE!" He promptly smacked the back of Alfred's head, still yelling, "IN CASE YOU HAVEN'T NOTICED, I'M NOT DONE TALKING TO YOU YOUNG MAN!"

He grabbed both of their collars and proceeded to drag them back towards the horses, ignoring their protests. "We're going to the World Conference, and I don't want to hear another bloody word about Mexico! Do you hear?"

He let them go with a shove, and Alfred blew out an exasperated breath. "Fine, whatever." At least he was safe in his thoughts.

The three young men rode off, unaware that a pair of brown eyes were still trained on them.

Teresa moved a stray hair out of her eyes, making sure that there was no one around to see or follow her. So far her day had not turned out as planned, but at least she'd gotten a hint of amusement from America's appearance.

As she walked deeper into the woods, Mexico idly thought about the days when she was still Antonio's colony. She remembered the night the two North Americas appeared in the fortress, and she thought she would stop feeling so lonely. Matthew had never been much of a playmate, since he was either being coddled by France or educated by England.

Her battle for independence had cost her not only many of her beloved citizens, but her relationship with Antonio. Teresa refused to have anything to do with him, wanting to build her country on her own. But her youth was her weakness. She was legitimate prey, susceptible to invasion. When someone came along with an offer of non-intrusive protection, she could not refuse.

She heard a rustling ahead, and managed to spot a flash of red and blue among the trees. She called out, "Relax, Raivis. The frog's long gone."

"R-really? Hey, Eduard! Toris! The coast is clear!" Leaping from the trees Latvia ran to meet Mexico. The female nation offered him a gentle smile, and waved to the other two countries.

Seeing as she was in the same situation as they were, Teresa thought that the three Baltic States were her only true friends. She was also, to tell the truth, the strongest of the lot.

Eduard adjusted his own glasses and asked Teresa nervously, "What do you mean he's gone? He didn't accept your offer?"

She began, "Well…I tried, but..."

"…You have failed, _moĭ dorogoĭ sluga _(6)."

The three young men collectively yelped and ran to hide behind Teresa, who tensed as the soft voice approached. She turned to her left and spotted Russia walking steadily towards them, tall and muscular, though covered by a thick coat.

It seemed strange to Teresa that he never took that thing off, considering that her country had fairly warm weather all year round. While the Baltic States trembled behind her, Mexico greeted tonelessly, "Hello, Ivan."

His silver hair swept by a gentle wind, Russia towered over her and asked, "You know I don't like failure, Teresa. I sent you to convince France to join my forces, and yet you manage to drive him off."

She caught the dangerous edge in his voice, but she remained stoic as she explained, "I attempted to recruit Francis, but he made _me_ an inappropriate offer. And besides, the plan was shot to hell when this _vaquero _(7), America showed up."

The four smaller nations jumped when Ivan suddenly frowned, his purple eyes dilating as he gazed at something beyond them.

Behind Teresa, Toris was muttering, "America…How do I remember that name?"

Teresa turned to look at them, confused. She was about to ask but was roughly turned around by Ivan's broad hand. He growled softly, "Teresa, _samyĭ dorogoĭ_ (8), what did you say his name was again?"

She paused for a moment, suddenly nervous. "A-America…But his real name is Alfred. You didn't know? He is…on his way to the World Conference with England and Canada…" Russia's eyes narrowed and he shoved her aside. Teresa regained her balance just in time to hear Eduard exclaim, "Hey! America was the baby we were supposed to-" He was cut off by Russia's hand tightening around his throat.

The other two young men cried out in fear and attempted to run, but Ivan hooked his foot around Raivis's thin ankle, throwing him to the ground and letting the Russian place that same foot on his back, keeping him in place. He reached out and caught Toris by his collar, growling, "So… 'Taken by a pack of wolves,' _da?_ You three barely escaped with your lives, _da? _Where those not your exact words?"

Teresa was trying to piece together what Russia was saying along with what it had to do with America. _But…Eduard was about to say that they were supposed to do something to America…when he was a—_"A baby!" Brown eyes widening in understanding she pointed at the three terrified men in Ivan's grip and yelled, "You were the ones who took Alfred back then!"

Russia disdainfully glared at her, saying, "Oh _da_, you are perceptive, _Meksika _(9). I made the mistake of trusting these three idiots to bring the brat to me, so that I would train him as a land under my power! Now, as it turns out, he is back with England, the one person I did not want him to meet, and he's prancing around _the world! Nazovi mne hotʹ odnu horoshuyu prichinu, pochemu ya ne dolzhen potroshitʹ vam tri idioty!"_ (10)

Teresa was suddenly glad she was armed, pitying the Baltic States as they begged for their lives.

Sighing angrily, Russia released them, bringing a hand to his temple as though he had a migraine. He continued to mutter more curses in Russian while Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia continued to cower behind a bewildered Mexico.

He turned his sharp gaze on them all, smiling once again. "You are all fortunate that I am capable of great patience. It is too late to recruit America…But there are other solutions to our little problem."

Ivan reached over and grasped Teresa's chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. "It looks like you will be of some further use, _litl_-_Meksiko_." (11)

The young woman tried to tear her gaze away, wondering just what she had gotten herself into.

* * *

**Cinco de Mayo conmemorates (more in the US than in Mexico) the Mexican Army's victory over the invading French forces in the Mexican state of Puebla on May 5th, 1862. It was a morale-boosting victory, even though they ended up losing to the French a year later and having Maximilian I (Austrian born) declared the ruler of Mexico.**

**I've made up many scenarios involving Teresa kicking Francis around, to everyone's collective surprise, and most of them involve Francis molesting Teresa. Hetalia gives the word 'invasion' a whole new meaning...**

**Mexico was known as the First Mexican Empire after it achieved independence from Spain, became a republic, then was proclaimed the Second Mexican Empire under Maximilian's rule. ****This further explanation is provided by 'Chillis.'**

**"Actually, the Mexican empire lasted one year, then it became a republic. Later on, one of the political parties, the conservatist, wanted to have the Mexican Empire re-estabished, so they called Maximilian from Austria and started the Second Mexican Empire, but nobody in Mexico minded him at all, because of the brand new Reform Laws, made by Benito Juarez, and the subsequent Reform War.**

The cinco de Mayo thing started with England, Spain, France and Italy, but Iggy, Toño and the Vargas brothers gave up the idea, while France wanted to spread his l'amour in Mexico.

Also, Cinco de Mayo took place after the War against Texas, then the Mexican-American War. Cinco the Mayo could be considered as an apology thing between Mexico and the US, even when the victory is all Mexican."

**Still, I'm going to further butcher history. Meaning no offense, of course, but I can assure that it'll be relevant to the storyline and SOMEHOW related to actual historical events. **

**ALSO: Alfred's glasses are supposed to be Texas (and sometimes the entire Southwest that was once in Mexico's possession) in the fandom, and I am entirely aware that the Mexican-American War was about 30 years BEFORE the Battle of Puebla on May 5th. **

**Teresa is quite obviously wearing those same glasses even though you've just read that she's kicked France's butt. Trust me, Alfred will get Texas! That will come later on! Plot element/I don't want to spoil it.**

**(1) blondie!**

**(2) good day**

**(3) my little frog**

**(4) rebozo - a piece of cloth that usually goes wrapped around the shoulders. Can be used to carry items, children, etc...**

**(5) See you later, blondie.**

**(6) My dear servant.**

**(7) cowboy**

**(8) dearest**

**(9) Mexico**

**(10) Give me one good reason why I shouldn't eviscerate you three idiots!**

**(11) little Mexico**

**Read and review! It makes me write faster!**


	6. Mustard: Not Just a Condiment

**Merry Late-Christmas, everyone! Thanks for reading and adding the story to your faves/alerts. **

**A school-chum of mine asked what my dream gift was. I promptly thought about a certain book series and seeing Alfred come to my door wearing only a tutu and singing the theme from Full House.**

**...I got books...**

**ON WITH THE SHOW.**

* * *

"Wow…"

Alfred had seen the fortress before, but it seemed to have grown larger in his absence. He would've felt out of place in his cowboy attire had he not thought he looked so dangerously good.

He continued to pay no heed to Arthur's continuous nagging about not being an embarrassment in front of the world, as well as taking off the "ridiculous hat."

Arthur was muttering the last bit when Alfred sassed back, "Terry didn't have any complaints about my hat."

"ENOUGH ABOUT TERRY—I mean—TERESA!"

America decided to spare Arthur further headaches and walked beside Matthew, who still noted his smug expression. The Canadian whispered, "Wipe that grin off your face, Al."

But his brother ignored him and boastfully said, "I'm guessing Mexico's gonna let everyone know how I helped her out." He paused when he spotted an ornate silver-framed mirror on the wall, and proceeded to adjust his bangs and check his teeth. "Just you wait, Mattie. They're gonna see just how much of a hero I am."

Canada frowned, gently admonishing, "This conference isn't just about you being recognized as a country, Alfred. Something serious has happened, and you'd know all about it if you'd listen to Arthur every once in a while." He began walking briskly to catch up with their mentor.

Alfred took long strides to reach his twin and said, "I do so listen to Artie! What could be more important than my reappearance?"

Clearing his throat Matthew replied testily, "Possible revolution in Russia. The assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand from the Austro-Hungarian Empire. The fact that China's become a republic.

"The world's a big place, Alfred. It's time you joined it."

The older twin shook his head slightly. "That's exactly what I'm doing, Matt. Where've you been the last decade?"

The three reached the double doors leading into the great hall. Arthur paused in front of them, blocking America and Canada from entering. "What Matthew means is that you need to participate in world issues. You must choose your Allies wisely and keep a close eye on your enemies.

"We have to help one another. Being a country doesn't only mean being recognized as such."

Alfred looked down at the floor in thought. So, he had to help other countries? He'd already helped Mexico, and in the process possible made an enemy of France. Somehow he would have to do more than rescuing damsels in distress. Still, he looked forward to seeing her in the meeting. Maybe sit next to her.

They entered, the great hall a flurry of movement.

"Whoa!" Alfred had to quickly jump back as Austria and Hungary quickly walked by, talking in strained whispers and casting worried glances at each other. America gazed through the crowd, trying to identify the countries. He spotted China sitting in one of the benches, kneading his forehead and keeping his eyes tightly shut.

In general, everyone seemed to be jumpy, waiting for some other disaster to befall the world.

"Come on." England tapped Alfred's shoulder, beckoning him towards the long table where the countries gathered. There was more than one instance where nations glanced at their neighbor, distrust in their eyes. France sat a few seats away from Arthur, Antonio at his left. His nose didn't look broken, noted Alfred with some displeasure. Still, the handsome country looked nervous, and furtively glanced up and down the table.

Once everyone was seated China stood, making a swift head count. The world was silent as he spoke, "Everyone, I am afraid we will have to wait a bit longer, _aru_. The entire world is not here yet, it appears."

There were a few groans at that news, and some of the nations left the table, once again gathering in their clusters. Arthur turned to Matthew and asked, "Do you know who's missing?"

Canada's gaze roamed, Alfred watching as his brother made careful mental notes. "Germany…Russia…Poland…the Baltic States…and Mexico."

America frowned, seeing that Teresa was indeed missing. She was not sitting among the other Latin American countries, or anywhere near Spain. "That sucks…You don't think she's in trouble again, right?"

Arthur scoffed and answered, "I doubt it. And don't even think about going off to 'save' her, Alfred. Your place is here right now."

Sulking, Alfred replied testily, "Yes, _Dad_," and reclined in his chair. If he hadn't witnessed for himself what Mexico could do, he wouldn't have believed she was so strong. Still, he did want to see her again.

For a few minutes nothing happened, and Alfred began to doze off. He jumped slightly when he heard a soft voice ask, "You are America-san, yes?" Alfred quickly got up, running a hand through his hair and trying identify the young man in front of him. He was dressed in a white military uniform, his brown eyes gazing up at him contemplatively. _Japan!_ The country's name finally clicked in Alfred's head, and he stuck a hand out. "Yep. The name's Alfred F. Jones! Pleased to meet ya, Japan!"

The shorter nation glanced at Alfred's outstretched hand before offering his own and giving a slight squeeze. He was about to pull away when the American began to shake it enthusiastically.

Perturbed, Japan waited for the younger nation to release him and straightened his sleeve. "…I am pleased as well, America-san. You may call me Kiku Honda. I have heard much of your country, and I must say you have done well."

Pride surging through him, Alfred scratched a spot behind his ear, trying to cover his blush. "Well shucks, Kiku! Thanks!"

"Yes…Shucks."

"_ALFREDO!_"

Something latched onto his neck and Alfred was nearly pulled backwards. Looking over his right shoulder he recognized that chestnut-colored hair and those dark amber eyes. "Feliciano! Dude!"

The Italian let go, his twin appearing behind him. Even though they were older they still looked so alike yet so different. Lovino raised a hand in greeting and said, "So, you were a country after all, eh Alfredo? _Che sorpresa._"

Alfred grasped the dark-haired twin's hand, saying, "Yeah. Guess that explains the time I broke your wrist! Hey, Mattie! Come over here." His own brother looked up with a grin and walked over. America put his arm around Canada's shoulders and said to the Italian brothers, "Guess you're not the only twins around anymore! But I'm still better looking, right?"

The four young men laughed boisterously as the rest of the world gathered to catch a glimpse of America.

Their acknowledgement empowered him, yet he still could not see them all properly. He realized his poor eyesight was still holding him back somehow. That would have to be rectified or else Alfred would still feel out of place. Incomplete.

The doors opened once again, and there were some sounds of surprise and outrage as someone shoved their way in.

"Let me through, _por favor!_ I'm sorry! Please, I need help!"

Everyone turned in the direction of the voice, and Alfred immediately recognized it. Before he could go to it, however, Spain ran by like a flash, calling out with worry, "Maite? Maite, what is wrong?"

The crowd parted and Teresa came into view, her hair in a ponytail now. Or perhaps her bun came apart again. She pushed her glasses back up her nose and looked around, panting with exertion. Her gaze settled upon Alfred and she cried, "America!" She ran to him, ignoring Spain and the other Latin American nations.

Alfred walked closer, concerned. "Terry!" This time she _did_ look frightened, and she caught him by surprise when she crumpled to her knees before him, still trying to catch her breath. The other countries gasped in shock, trying to see what was wrong. Alfred knelt down in front of her, gently taking her by the shoulders and asking, "Teresa, what's wrong? Come on, what is it?"

Raising her head, Teresa grasped at the fabric of Alfred's shirt, her touch sending electricity through his skin. "Alfred…_Gracias a Dios (1)_, I've found you! You must come with me! Poland and I…w-we were on our way here when there was a rockslide in the mountains! Feliks…he pushed me out of the way, and was trapped!" She brought her face closer to Alfred's, his temperature rising as he looked down at her glowing eyes. "I would have dug him out myself, but the boulders were just too…enormous! I just knew that _you_ would be here, and that you would be able to help me save him! Please?"

Alfred took everything she said in, noticing just how close her skin…her lips were. Her helpless gaze had him trapped, along with the possibility of proving himself as a hero to the world. Gently placing a placating hand on her cheek, America grinned confidently and said, "Lead the way, Mexico. We'll get him out."

He expected to see Teresa smile at him, or even cling to him as she wept gratefully. But she merely stared at him before nodding and standing up. "Come on. There's no time to waste!"

Alfred nodded, getting to his feat and nodding to Matthew and Arthur. "Let's go!" His brother immediately went to his side, Arthur lingering as he glared at Mexico's back.

The other countries continued to speak amongst themselves, following as Teresa let the way out of the fortress and to the northern mountains.

There was a road leading out of the gorge, but it was a dangerous climb. Alfred was about to offer his arm to Teresa but she was already scaling her way down. Glancing down he saw that there was indeed a cluster of boulders at the bottom. Arthur appeared beside him, asking, "So, what do you suppose you'll do to get Poland out?"

It wasn't only Teresa who would be watching. It was the entire world. Alfred narrowed his eyes, keeping his balance as he began the walk down. "I figure I'll just wing it…"

He spotted Teresa's slim figure inching along a house-sized boulder, a small opening at its base. To his horror there was a pale hand sticking out of it. It moved weakly, and Mexico placed a gentle hand on it.

"_Pomóż mi ..._"(2) Poland's faint voice reached Alfred, and he neared the boulder to try and figure out the best way to lift it without hurting the man under it. _Okay…This should be easy._

He bent his knees, grasping the boulder in his broad hands. Blowing out puffs of air, he shouted, "Get out of the way, Teresa!" Her eyes widened in surprise and she let Feliks' hand go, backing away.

Through her glasses, Mexico watched as Alfred slowly but surely lifted the boulder, barely breaking a sweat. She gasped in spite of herself, along with all of the other countries gathered at the top of the gorge. She knew America was strong…but _this_ was astonishing!

Poland, another country under Russia's control, had been forced to participate in the plan. Ivan had ordered Teresa to put the boulder on top of the frightened young man, but she had been incredibly careful. The plan had been to lure Alfred to this area, but aside from saving Poland, Russia had not disclosed the rest of the plan to Mexico.

Alfred, meanwhile, kept the boulder in the air as Poland frantically crawled out. _I did it…I did it!_ He let out a triumphant, "YEAH!" His heart soared, though, when he heard cheers erupt from the other countries. His blue eyes shone with happiness as they applauded him, watching as Arthur gave him a grudging smile and Matthew waved.

But he turned back to Teresa, who's mouth was a round 'o' as she continued to stare at him. There seemed to be genuine admiration in her eyes as she joined Poland. The blond-haired country, meanwhile, was profusely thanking Alfred, "_Dziękuję! (3)_ Thank you so much, America!"

Alfred smiled brilliantly and set the boulder down, waving away Poland's thanks. "It's no problem, man! Just try to keep out of trouble from now on."

"Yes! Certainly!" He could've sworn he saw Poland give Teresa a fearful glance. But she only smiled kindly and nodded, and Poland shot back up the road to join the rest of the world.

Teresa walked over to Alfred, his heart rate picking back up again. The boulder hadn't fazed him much, but talking to Mexico…

She was still smiling at him approvingly, and said, "I can see I was right. You really are strong. I would've loved to have seen you fight France back home."

Alfred looked away, still sheepish. "Well, I…It wasn't that big of a boulder…Um…D'you wanna head back up there?" He nodded towards the top of the gorge. Teresa nodded quickly, but still paused. Her right hand rubbed her left arm above the elbow, and she was looking away from him. "I will see you up there, _güero_…" She gathered her skirt and walked back up the path, guilt making her scalp tingle.

Something bad was coming, and she just knew it was meant to destroy Alfred. She looked down at the rocky floor beneath her sandaled feet, whispering to herself, "Come on, you idiot. Get out of there, now…"

Even though his sight was still fuzzy, Alfred looked forward to the heaps of praise he would be receiving. He wiped the dirt off his hands on his pants and started walking towards the path.

Suddenly there were panicked shouts coming from the crowd, and Alfred looked back up at them in confusion. "What the hell…?"

He heard Matthew screaming frantically, "Alfred! Hurry! You've got to get out of there!"

His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to figure out what was wrong. He began to pick up the pace when his eyes suddenly began to sting.

"Ah!" He raised a hand to rub whatever it was out of his eyes, but Arthur's voice stopped him, "Alfred, don't touch your eyes! Hang on, I'm coming!"

Alfred looked up, seeing England's hazy outline scrambling towards him. "Arthur…? Arthur!" He stuck his arm out in front of him, trying to feel _something_. Where had Teresa gone…?

Where had everything gone?

"…I can't see…Arthur, I can't see!"

"I'm coming, Alfred!"

"_Angleterre! _Look out!"

His eyes wide open but unseeing, Alfred identified France's voice. He sounded close. A second later everything in front of Alfred blew apart, the blast sending him flying backwards.

"_Angle-_OOF!"

Matthew screamed. "_ARTHUR!_"

America's body landed heavily on the rocks, he grunting in pain. "Shit!" He felt around for something to grasp, still blind and his back in flaming pain. The burn was no longer just in his eyes, but all over his skin. He gritted his teeth against the pain caused by his clothes. "What the hell is this?"

From far away, his brother's broken voice answered, "Mustard gas! Al, don't worry! We're coming to get you!"

"Mattie," he called out weakly. "Matt! Where's Arthur?"

This time it was Spain who answered, "The blast knocked him out. Francis as well! We are getting them both out!"

Alfred tried to stay still as long as he could, the delay making him worry about Arthur. That had been no mine…Perhaps a grenade?

"M-Matthew! Is…Is Arthur o-"

_BAM!_

A second explosion tore the air behind Alfred, and he flew forwards, banging his forehead on the ground. He couldn't breathe in the sour smell of the air surrounding him, and all he could manage were wracking coughs. Blind and in pain, America struggled to get upright and ran, keeping his strides long and his arms in front of him.

_I gotta get away from this smell…_

"Alfredo!"

Lovino's voice came from above him, "Stay there and get ready to catch my rifle!"

"_Fratello_, it's my rifle…"

"_STAI ZITTO!_ NOW, ALFRED!"

He heard a heavy object whistle through the air and kept his arms ready. A heavy, painful thud on his palms told him that he had caught it. "Got it!"

Elated cheers floated down the gorge, and the mustard gas did not seem to be too strong here. _I still need to keep moving. Whoever's throwing those grenades isn't gonna quit until I'm—_

Cries of shock and outrage came from the gathered countries and for a moment Alfred thought something worse was about to hit him.

This time Antonio yelled, "It is Germany! Behind you, Alfred! _Corre! Ahora!"_

"Shit!" He did as he was told, desperate to get away and at least regain his sight. _Get it together, America!_

The smell was barely noticeable and his vision was beginning to return, the shapes surrounding him blurry.

_RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT_

His upper left arm burned with fury as a bullet hit him, and the force knocked him on his back. "Damn it!"

Alfred looked down, his sight focusing, and made a quick inventory as he ignored the searing pain throughout his body. There was a nasty burn on his right leg, which he probably hadn't noticed because of the damage done by the gas. His arm still bled, but there was no time to bandage it. Emerging from the smoke was a masked figure, carrying a rifle. Alfred idly wondered how the others had known that he was Germany until he spotted the yellow and black coat of arms on his left sleeve.

"AL! GET UP, COME ON!"

He tried to crawl backwards, the pain flooding up his shoulder and leg. "Ah…! Crap…" He realized he was trapped.

Germany was out of the yellow fog, and he unfastened the mask from his head. Ice-blue eyes glared down at Alfred, who stared back defiantly. In his heavily accented English, the taller man barked, "Finally! I will admit you were a challenge…But this will be a victory for Germany!"

The rifle was aimed directly at Alfred, who shut his eyes in spite of himself.

_Matt…Artie…I'm sorry._

"_Hrk!"_

A choking noise made Alfred open his eyes again, and his mouth went slack when he saw that it was his brother who had his wiry arms wrapped around the German's neck, whose face was slowly turning purple.

"Mattie…?"

Canada's usually placid face was a mask of rage, and his glasses glinted as he thrashed with Germany. "Leave my brother…alone!"

The older nation let off a few rounds in the air, trying to catch Alfred. But the American was already on his feet, limping as he regained his sense of touch.

It went on for about two minutes: Matthew tightening his grip on Germany and getting a few nasty scratches in while the soldier's rounds went wasted on a limping Alfred.

Teresa watched the scene anxiously, her hands clasped together. _Santa Madre…Let him live through this…_

She did not care for Russia's plan, but would not let him see it. For now, she stood faithfully by his side, away from the other countries. The Russian towered above her, his narrowed eyes watching America's every move.

The rifle emptied, Germany swung it in a sudden movement, the iron catching Alfred's cheek and cutting his lip open. He spat out blood and clenched his teeth at the man. "Bring it, you goddamn bastard…"

Germany surprised them, though, by discarding the weapon and taking hold of Matthew's arms. The young man let out a shocked squeak before Germany bent forward and swung him off, throwing him legs-first onto Alfred.

Mexico winced visibly when Canada's feet hit America's much-abused forehead. The two brothers lay in a bloodied, bruised heap, and Germany rubbed the spot on his temple where Matthew had kicked him. Still he was, for the most part, unharmed.

Ivan's cold voice broke through Teresa's fog of worry. "This is where the game becomes entertaining…"

Only his eyes betrayed his anticipation of America's death.

Below, Alfred had accidentally pulled the rifle's trigger when his twin hit him. Only an empty click was heard.

"Aw HELL!" In his anger he grabbed the rifle and flung it away from him.

A pained grunt and heavy thud told Alfred that he had unintentionally hit Germany. He broke into an exuberant grin and exclaimed, "YES!"

He quickly disentangled himself from Matthew, who moaned weakly. He paid no heed to the sound of the countries now gathering on the rocky wall, safe from the gas's reach.

Alfred straddled the barely conscious Germany and aimed a punch, hitting his astounded face with a loud _thwack_. His foe's head lolled to the side and his eyes closed. Yet it was not enough. The American repeatedly beat Germany's face, remembering what had been done to Arthur and Matthew. He did not stop until the older nation was unrecognizable. He was not going to be getting up anytime soon.

Struggling to his feet Alfred leaned on his good leg and panted in exhaustion. His chin was still wet with his blood, but he ignored it and went to his brother.

Alfred took great care in lifting Matthew's head, whispering encouragingly, "C'mon, bro. We did it! We won!"

Slowly his twin's violet eyes opened behind the grimy lenses, focusing on Alfred in bewilderment. "Al…we won…?"

The American laughed with relief. "Yeah, Matt. We beat the hell out of Germany!"

Once again the air was filled with the sound of cheering.

Everyone was far too busy going to fetch the three men to notice Russia's trembling fist or Mexico's glowing eyes.

Alfred never noticed when they lifted him onto their arms, carrying him like a victorious king. It gave him a heady feeling throughout his entire being until he thought it would overwhelm him. _They're cheering…For me!_

Eventually he and Matthew were brought to the fortress's medical wing, where Arthur and Francis had their heads and arms bandaged up. That did not stop the Englishman's rampage.

"_Completely_ out of control! You could've been KILLED down there! You AND your equally idiotic brother!"

From his right side Matthew slurred, "I'm…a _good_ idiot…pancake boy…" He _had_ hit his head quite hard.

Alfred's triumphant smile gave way to booming laughter, knowing that the old man was proud of them no matter what he said.

They were all treated for curious burns caused by the gas. Germany was not looked upon the same again, and he had the hardest time recovering, both physically and economically.

America's circle of admirers grew, as did his influence. He basked in the world's attentions and was generous with his power. Through his eyesight continued to worsen he hid this from everyone. He continued to be called upon for help, but hardly ever saw Mexico except at the World Conferences. And even then she kept her distance and remained business-like.

When he wasn't involved in worldly affairs, Alfred retreated into films and jazz.

* * *

**Oh wow. I am SO sorry, Germany...I honestly love him to death, and it broke me to do this to him. *goes over to his house to finish his coo-coo clocks* **

**I guess France and England are pretty sore at me as well.**

**Yes, this little scuffle was stylized after WWI (and I have horrendously abridged it). Allow me to make a few historical notes for clarification.**

**World War I saw the start of the Allied and Central powers (predecessor to the Axis, kind of). The Allies were made up by America, England (with Canada by default, as well as the other colonies and dominions), France, Italy, Japan, AND the Russian Empire (which promptly fell apart at the end of the war).**

**The Central powers were made up of the German Empire, the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the Ottoman Empire, and Bulgaria. **

**One of the reasons WWI was thought as the "war to end all wars" was because of the technology and weaponry introduced, such as mustard gas and heavy artillery. The gas ended up causing devastating damage to soldiers' bodies, such as blindness and chemical burns to the skin. Two films that show the use of the gas and general WWI fighting are 'Legends of the Fall' and 'The Little Princess.'**

**China became a republic with Sun Yat Sen(?) as political leader, while still having "The Last Emperor," Puyi, as a figurehead "reigning" from the Forbidden City. **

**Translations!**

**(1) Thank God!**

**(2) Help me...**

**(3) Thank you!**

**Thank you for bearing with me and in case I don't make the next chapter before the new year, HAPPY 2011! READ AND REVIEW, YOU'VE ALL BEEN REALLY NICE!**


	7. Bring Me the Head of Alfredo!

****

HAPPY 2011, EVERYONE! Again, thanks for the wonderful reviews to this and my other fics. It's incredibly encouraging. I can't believe these chapters keep getting longer and longer...

**I swear, I'll split the next few before they get too long! And yes, the chapter title is also the title of a film (_Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia)._**

**Once again, A VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR! _Draw a circle, that's the earth...~_**

_

* * *

_

_Thwack!_

Toris had mastered the art of keeping his arms from trembling even while he was scared witless. His dark-blue eyes peered from behind the wood with Alfred's photograph pasted to it, a kitchen knife sticking out from the nose. "V-v-very n-n-n-nice shot, Russia, sir…"

Ivan only continued glowering as he held Teresa's kitchen knife between his index fingers. The rest of her cutlery was firmly lodged into various spots on America's face, one of them embedded deep into his right eye.

Teresa idly observed the scene from her table, wondering where in any part of her deal with Russia it said that her utensils belonged to him as well. "You know those are real silver, right?"

"Shut up." The fifth knife sliced through the air, hitting America's chin.

Mexico left the table, fed up, and walked to the window that overlooked the East. Alfred lived close, but Ivan had forbidden her from having contact with him. The first time he had decreed it, Teresa flared with rage. She was an independent Empire, and no one had the right to order her about.

Of course, she realized she had only herself to blame.

Still, it was small comfort to know that America would not be felled so easily. Whatever Russia threw at him, he defeated, further proving himself a hero and a powerful country. The thought made her smile. "You know you're wasting your time, _camarada. _(1) America has already grown too powerful."

She heard Toris's breath hitch in fear, as well as Ivan's slow steps toward her. "What was that, _malenʹkaya Tereza_?" (2)

She merely chuckled wryly, unfazed. "A man such as that needs something a bit stronger. Something _you_ certainly don't have, Ivan."

"Mexico," Lithuania whimpered. "There's no call for such rudeness!"

The young woman stood her ground, her back to Russia, waiting for whatever blow he would give her. _So what? I've endured worse._

But nothing came. Only the weight of Ivan's gloved hand on her shoulder. "_Da_. You are completely right, Teresa."

The woman was caught off guard, and she turned to look at Ivan, whose gaze was full of praise and indulgence. "I…I am?"

"Of course. I do need something stronger to use against America. And it is something…in _your _possession." His broad hands suddenly ghosted down the curve of her back, causing an unexpected blush to appear on Teresa's face.

She followed his line of thought and quickly pulled away. "_Olvidalo_ (3)_, _Ivan. It will not happen."

He ignored her, clasping his hands behind him and pacing the floor, "Everyone has weakness. America…he may be a powerful country, but he still has the mindset of a boy." His purple eyes looked pointedly at her, as though she were a deer in his crosshairs. "You are a beautiful woman, Mexico. What boy does not dream of such a woman?"

Teresa did not like where this was going. She chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully before retorting, "I've already done my part! Why don't you get Eduard or—or Raivis to do it? I _know_ Alfred's still giving looks at Kiku-"

Ivan interrupted, "These three idiots could not get the job done when he was an infant. What makes you think they will handle him now?" He disdainfully waved his hand at Lithuania, who dropped the target-board and ran out of the kitchen.

The tall nation continued, "You would do well to remember who you owe your present life to_, Litl-Meksiko._ If it were not for my protection, you might as well belong to Spain once again…Nothing but his slave and your land at his disposal."

Tears began to sting at Teresa's eyes as the webs of memory were woven afresh.

She had been so young, idolizing the swarthy man in shimmering armor, whose green eyes awakened something in the Aztec Empire. Teresa willingly went to him, wanting his love and acceptance. Antonio had given her just that, but at a price she was not prepared to pay.

The night Moctezuma was killed, the girl once known as _Xochiquetzal_ became Maria Teresa, sister, wife, and colony of Spain.

Illness never before seen erased the memory of her people, and while she maintained hers and Antonio's face as his colony, she died inside.

When she declared her independence Antonio had punished her, unleashing violence towards her leaders. Teresa helplessly watched the Spanish soldiers execute Miguel Hidalgo, who had been her dearest friend and mentor. It went on until they finally met face to face on the battlefield.

The woman had her gun pointed at her former lover, even as her wounds bled profusely. The determination in her eyes was only matched by the pain in Antonio's, and it was only until he was staring up at her from the ground that he accepted defeat.

She refused to go through that again. Taking her glasses off, Teresa wiped her tears. "_Basta_ (4)…There's no way I will let that happen again. _Nunca mas…(5)_" Of course, she realized, she _was_ letting it happen.

Ivan's smile was sweet, making her teeth chatter uncomfortably. He gently took her hand and turned it over, palm facing up, and fingered the scar she had gotten when blocking Antonio's sword. She had many more just like them throughout her body. "Charm him into revealing his weakness. Just this one task is all I ask of you, _moĭ dorogoĭ_. And should we succeed, I will grant you what you want most."

He took her other hand in his, and she continued to stare at his chest.

"Your complete freedom."

**_Hetalia!_**

St. Louis was the scene of the euphoria surrounding America, and the sultry tunes of jazz floated through the air.

Glittering figures glided arm in arm into the dance halls, and new dances were catching on all over the country.

But it was the flapper girls that caused Matthew to blush and Arthur to blanch. When a particularly daring woman flitted past the chair Canada was sitting in England covered the young man's eyes and muttered, "Honestly, have they no shame?"

The younger twin instead glanced towards the dance floor, where Alfred was looking sharp in his white suit, dancing heatedly with a young woman wearing feathers in her hair. "You've got to admit, Arthur. Alfred sure knows how to throw a party."

"Yes, he certainly does," said the green eyed nation. "He knows how to spend money as well. One of these days he's going to end up a pauper." His eyes raked the entire scene with disapproval, and he refused to even partake in the illegally obtained liquor. "You'd think if the boy's own government made drinking illegal that he'd follow suit! But no." England rubbed the bridge of his nose, the party making him weary. "He still has to behave like a stubborn ass."

Matthew merely laughed, snapping his fingers to the rhythm of the music. "Lighten up, Arthur! This is the best time Alfred's had in ages. The food's delicious. The music's great. And we've even got the moving pictures now!"

Arthur stayed silent, since he had developed his own little obsession with films. Of course he was not about to admit to that in front of Alfred.

Said country made his way to them, his dance partner walking the opposite way. Alfred plopped down on the chair next to Matthew and ran a hand through his sweaty locks. "Man…that Charleston takes a lot out of ya…Mattie, hand me some champagne." He held his hand out while his brother filled his glass with the sparkling liquid, Arthur glaring at them in disapproval. "If there's ever a raid in this place, you two brats never saw me here. Got it?"

Canada stared after the girl who had danced with Alfred, commenting softly, "She's pretty, Al. I'm kind of surprised you weren't inviting her over to your place."

America gulped the champagne down and replied, "Yeah. Blonde. Blue eyed. Thin. Perfect. But you know I like curvy, brown eyed brunettes, Matt."

Arthur scoffed, "Don't even go there, Alfred."

"C'mon, Artie! You're not gonna give me that whole 'focus on getting your country on its feet' speech again, right? If you haven't noticed…" He stood up and let his arm sweep the room. "We're already dancing!" He grinned and placed the glass back on the table, turning to the other two men. "If you don't mind, I gotta see something about an order from Cuba."

Alfred took one last glance at the party as he headed up the stairs leading to his office. It had been a lie. The order from Cuba was well on its way, and there was no other pressing business. The truth was that the party did not mean much to him if he had to pretend he was dancing with Mexico.

He shut the door and locked it, the silence falling like a weight on his thundering ear drums. Closing his eyes he took off his jacket and threw it on a chair, followed by his tie.

"Wow, _güero_. Take it _all_ off!"

Alfred's eyes shot open and he swiveled in the direction of the voice. Sitting behind his desk, her hands gracefully arranged on her lap, was Teresa.

"Terry! Wow…I was just thinking about you…" He walked closer to her, unable to stop the way his gaze traveled from her neat hair bun down to her crossed legs. She wore a white shirt that left her shoulders uncovered, and her long skirt was black with a bright pattern of flowers embroidered at the hem. The glasses were still perched on her nose, and the golden medallion still hung from her delicate neck.

The American cleared his throat and added, "I really missed you, Terry."

Mexico smiled and got up from the chair. "That is sweet of you, Alfred. I am sorry I haven't been able to meet with you lately." She let her hand finger the desk, knowing America's gaze would be drawn to them. "Everything's been so chaotic. But I can see that you have done well for yourself."

Alfred chuckled, still staring at Teresa's delicate-looking fingers. "Yeah, well…It's still hectic. I mean, everyone expects so much by way of entertainment and politics. I'm burning out…" His hand was slowly inching its way toward hers. But she walked away and stopped to stand at the window, looking out towards the Mississippi River.

"You could use some relaxation," Teresa said. "I figured as much, since I went through the same thing myself once I became independent."

The young man felt warm, the possibilities going through his head. "Right…You're absolutely right! So, d'you think you'd-"

"Like to join you? Yes."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, since he expected to be the one to ask her out. Before he could stop himself he smiled elatedly and asked, "Really? Well, I…" Alfred's fingers itched to touch something. This time he granted their wish and reached over to take Teresa's small hands in his. He looked at her pleasantly shocked face, and the way her dark eyes gazed up at him made his heart race. "I'd _really_ like it if you went out with me, Teresa."

He waited patiently for her answer and received a small nod. "Alright," she said quietly. "I'd like it as well."

A blush crept into both their cheeks as the sun disappeared.

Minutes later the two walked into the streets, a grinning Alfred with a silent Teresa on his arm. They were on their way to the theater, the young man already having a film in mind.

They paused beneath the marquee, Teresa raising an eyebrow at the movie title. "_Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde…_That sounds familiar."

Waving their tickets in front of her, Alfred replied, "Artie told me it was some book written by Rob Louie…something. I was way too busy throwing parties to read it so I decided to wait for the movie."

"…Right."

Film was not a rarity in Mexico, but she was still interested in America's filmmaking.

The theater was dark and cool, and Alfred drew Teresa closer to him as they searched for empty seats. Their eyes adjusted to the darkness and five minutes later the booming orchestral music heralded the opening titles.

The title card read, _"__In each of us, two natures are at war-the good and the evil. All our lives the fight goes on between them, and one of them must conquer. But in our own hands lies the power to choose-what we want most to be, we are."_

Cold dread settled in Teresa's stomach. Of course she'd had a choice back then when Russia made her the offer. She thought of her own dual nature as the independent Empire and one of Ivan's servants. She pulled her hand from Alfred's grasp and feigned having to adjust her glasses.

Of course there was no way she could have predicted what happened next.

Henry Jekyll developed his potion and began to drink it. His face distorted from the handsome norm to a completely unrecognizable, hideous man. The transformation made Teresa and some of the audience gasp in shock. But Alfred shrieked in utter horror and buried his face in her shoulder. "Oh crap crap crap _crap! _How the hell is he doing that?"

The woman turned to stare at the silhouette clutching her arm, feeling a surge of tenderness. She whispered incredulously, "You're actually afraid of it, _güero_? It's just a movie! Come on." She tried to pry him off of her. "Look and you will see that it's just makeup-"

But the young man only peered at her, still trembling with fear, "Forget it! I'm staying in your shoulder where it's safe!"

The Mexican went back to watching the screen, utterly confused. _Horror films? Could that be his weakness?_

Once the movie was over they exited the theater, Alfred brimming with excitement and commentary. "Could you believe the makeup they used? That Barrymore dude is a _genius!_ I barely recognized him!"

Teresa giggled and said, "That is funny, since you never dislodged yourself from me long enough to _look_ at the screen."

America shrugged, still having enjoyed the film in spite of his terror. "Yeah, well…The night's still young, though. Anything in particular you want to do?"

She gazed down at her feet, considering going back to Ivan and just telling him about the horror films. But as much as it was hard for her to believe, Mexico did have fun. Perhaps it would not hurt if she actually spent more time with America. Smiling she looked up at him and said, "You've given me a taste of American culture, so I'll pay you back by sharing something with you. Are you up for a long bus trip?"

"Hell yeah, I am! Where to? Texas? Nevada?"

"No…"

It took them a few hours and sore backsides to finally reach the Valley of Mexico, and the cold night air caught Alfred by surprise as they exited the bus. He suddenly wished he'd brought his jacket. Rubbing his arms for warmth he asked Teresa as his breath billowed in a cloud, "Hey, you're not planning on leaving me here to fend for myself, right?"

She froze in panic but recovered enough to laugh and reply, "Far from it, _güero_. Look out there." She pointed towards the silhouettes of two volcanoes overlooking the valley they stood in. Alfred squinted, trying to discern their shapes in the darkness. "Uh…mind telling me what we're looking at?"

Teresa used her finger to trace the shape of the smaller volcano. "Doesn't that look like a woman sleeping on her back?"

His blue eyes struggled to see it but with Teresa's help he could get a sense of it. "Yeah, kind of."

The woman bent to sit on the ground and patted a spot next to her for Alfred to join her. He watched her lean her chin on her hand as she stared at the volcanoes wistfully. "These volcanoes have such a sad story to them…It's part of why I love them so much. They take me back to the days of the Aztecs and the warriors."

Staring at her profile, America believed that she herself was a warrior. "Could you tell me the story?"

Teresa closed her eyes, letting herself fade into the past. Her voice was sweet and gentle as she began, "There were once two lovers. One of them was the warrior, Popocatepetl-"

She stopped when Alfred chortled, and opened one glaring eye. He cleared his throat quickly and muttered, "Sorry. Go on."

"The other was the princess, Itzaccihuatl. One day, Itzaccihuatl's father, who did not approve of their love, demanded that Popocatepetl engage an enemy tribe in battle. If he returned victorious then he would be allowed to marry Itzaccihuatl. The warrior left to fight in the war while the princess awaited the day he would return.

"However, Popocatepetl was betrayed. His rival returned to the palace and told Itzaccihuatl's father that Popocatepetl had perished in battle. The princess was heartbroken and soon died of her sadness.

"But the warrior soon returned after defeating their enemies, only to discover that his princess had died. Inconsolable, he took her body and ventured into the wilderness, where he built a funeral pyre for himself and Itzaccihuatl. He soon died next to her. The Gods took pity upon the lovers and transformed them into mountains, Popocatepetl forever vigilant over the body of Itzaccihuatl. They say that the warrior still spews fire and ash as a reminder of his undying love."

Alfred continued to look up at the volcanoes, Teresa's voice bringing them to life. "That's so sad…Popo really did love Itchy, but that prick just had to ruin it for them."

The dark eyed woman sputtered in outrage. "At least have the decency to pronounce their names right!"

She tried to maintain her frown but within a few seconds she gave in to laughter. Alfred joined her and their boisterous laughs echoed through the valley.

Soon the cold forced Alfred to scotch closer to Teresa. The moon, a small glowing sickle in the sky, moved unnoticed by them. America drew in a breath and commented with genuine honesty, "Y'know you're lucky you've got so much natural beauty out here. And the art, and music. I really like…" He suddenly felt too warm and only managed to stutter, "I really like it here!"

He missed the look of dismay that appeared on Teresa's face.

But he did hear her say, "Yes, but it is the natural resources that make the country so attractive…Silver and gold. And then I wonder why the other countries take advantage of me…"

Surprised, he turned to her but Mexico was already on her feet, turning away from the volcanoes. Alfred said, "Not everyone in the world's like that, Terry. You're not like that." He got to his feet and took her hand in both of his, offering her a warm smile while she gazed up at him doubtfully.

"Alfred…you hardly know a thing about me."

He chuckled, still squeezing her hands, "But I do know that you're one of the toughest chicks I know, and you don't take anything from anyone. I can't imagine why anyone would wanna hurt you. I know I don't." He knew he meant it.

Teresa smiled briefly, shaking her head and saying, "I don't want to hurt you either, _güero_. So perhaps it is best if we just…" When she tried to pull away Alfred's grip tightened slightly, and he pulled her to him.

America's brow smoothed out, gazing down at her brown eyes with his blue ones. He knew that only a few inches would cover the distance between his lips and her rosy ones. The blush beneath her glasses added an air of innocence to her lovely face, which looked both hopeful and terrified.

Alfred dared himself to move and pay attention to the way his pulse quickened. _She's so pretty._ He watched her eyes slowly close, her lips part, and her began to lean his head—

"_ALFRED F. JONES, YOU GET YOUR ARSE OVER HERE THIS INSTANT!"_

The two jumped out of each other's arms and Alfred turned to see Arthur kick Matthew's car door open, a furious scowl coming towards them. "Aw, damn. What the hell are you doin' here, Old Man?" He played it off like he was joking, but in reality he was a bit annoyed that his brother and mentor had appeared. He gave his twin a dark glare, while Canada shrugged and mouthed a "sorry."

England, meanwhile, pointed an index finger at Alfred and shouted, "I've been looking all over for you! Did you think you could just disappear for an entire night and no one would notice?"

The blue-eyed nation was about to reply but Teresa cut him off, "Relax, wet-nurse. It was my fault. I invited Alfred to go out with me."

Arthur glowered at the woman and took Alfred by the wrist. "I don't want to hear anything from you, woman. Alfred, we're leaving." He made to pull Alfred with him but the American pulled away and said, "Give me a second, for God's sake."

He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck while Teresa gracefully looked away, still smiling. "I had a great time. Really."

"So did I."

They remained like that for a moment until something kicked in the back of Alfred's mind. He leaned over and brushed his lips on Mexico's cheek.

The Empire gasped, bringing a trembling hand up to her cheek. When she turned around Alfred was already in the car, throwing a shocked Matthew onto the passenger seat and speeding off, leaving Arthur behind.

The Englishman gaped in outrage, his face becoming as red as a tomato. "You…little…" He sprinted after them. "GET BACK HERE, YOU BLOODY WANKERS!"

But the twins were long gone and all Arthur achieved was stumbling over the side of the road and falling down as he screamed, "Bugger!" With a thud and grunt he landed in a ditch, unnoticed.

The night had certainly not gone as planned for Mexico. Not only had she not discovered America's weakness, but he had _kissed_ her. And she had enjoyed it.

She _loved_ it just as she loved—

_No! No, I…I can't love America! It's not…It's not possible!_

The last time she had admitted to such emotions Teresa had lost her name and her freedom. Her people were scattered along the entire land and her language was unrecognizable. She nearly died in the struggle for her independence, all because of a crush she'd had on Antonio so long ago.

_It was my weak judgment that changed everything. I can't fall in love with anyone. Least of all Alfred…_

He was a powerful country now, fully capable of anything.

…And it was his unwillingness to maliciously hurt others that Teresa adored.

She saw the sincerity in his eyes when he'd told her that he would never hurt her.

Teresa had denied herself such simple pleasure for so long in order to keep herself strong. She thought her legs would begin to buckle and she would fall apart like she did for Spain.

But this time she felt like she was in flight.

"I…I love him," she said aloud. She laughed breathlessly like a carefree girl and repeated, louder, "I love America!"

The Valley of Mexico became her silent witness as Mexico raised her hands to the sky, thanking the God Antonio had given her and the gods of her people.

Her peace was broken unceremoniously by the rumbling approach of a car down the road. It looked like Matthew's American car but the passenger could not be as different and unwelcome.

Teresa erased her smile and brought her arms down as Ivan shut the driver's door. He had come alone, a fact that made Mexico nervous.

Smiling beatifically the nation spread his arms out in greeting and said, "My _Litl-Meksiko_. Please tell me you have good news for me."

Something broke inside the smaller country, and she crossed her arms defiantly. "Yes, but it's more for me than for you. I think you'd best find yourself another servant. I'm _done._"

She turned her back on Russia, missing the angry spark in his purple eyes. "What…do you mean by these things, Teresa?" He reached out, grabbing her arm and squeezing it painfully. Teresa gritted her teeth against the pain and looked up at his furious face. He growled, "Have you forgotten that you are mine?"

Meanwhile, twenty feet away, England spat out dirt and leaves, every muscle in his body aching. His back cracked, and he muttered, "I am going to _murder_ Alfred…" As he struggled to his feet Arthur looked around, trying to figure out how he was going to get out of this mess. He considered looking for Mexico…

"…the boy's head on a platter, what do you say?"

"…Medium or well-done…You're crushing my arm!"

Arthur's brows furrowed together as he walked towards the source of the voices. _Mexico…and Russia? What on earth is he doing here?_

He heard the man's angered voice reply, "I will crush more than that if you continue to be stubborn. You belong to me, and you would do well to remember that. For the sake of your people. Now tell me what you've found out about America!"

England froze, Russia's words sinking into his brain. _She belongs to him…?_ He finally spotted them and ducked behind a bush, seeing Teresa's smaller frame standing in front of Ivan's taller one. She was answering, "I didn't find out anything. I swear."

Harsh realization made Arthur angrily dig his fingers in the earth. She had no interest in Alfred! _Traitorous little bitch! _Remembering Alfred, the blond nation crawled away as quietly as he could, intending to make his way to the nearest town. _I have to tell Alfred. If he didn't tell her anything now, he will the next time he sees her!_ Bile rose in his throat, remembering the kiss Alfred had given Teresa.

Ivan was still relentless in trying to get the information out of Mexico. He was used to her obstinate nature, but this was going too far for his temper to handle. He was not above breaking her arm to achieve his end. "Do not lie to me, woman. I could break your neck now and your people will be left to the mercy of the other countries. Is that what you want?"

Gathering her strength, Teresa pulled her arm free. She glared at the man through narrowed eyes and spat, "I will not let you harm him! You may kill me, but I know my people will be cared for! If not they can rebuild the country themselves!" Grinning madly, Mexico added, "Besides, Ivan. Do you really think you stand a chance against America? He has _no_ weakness-"

She was cut off by Ivan's hands tightening around her throat. But there was no force behind his grip.

His eyes saw through her words immediately, seeing her adoration and taking various guesses at what had happened. Really, it was not hard to figure out, since the American was not the subtlest of countries.

Ivan chuckled lightly and said, "That is where you're wrong, _malenʹkaya Tereza_. He does have a weakness." His sharp gaze was directly aimed at her.

* * *

***dies* Oh dear sweet kolkol, I did it...**

**Yeah, it's supposed to be the 1920s. _Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_ was released as a silent film in 1920, and I didn't want to use the usual _Phantom of the Opera_. Besides, I saw the movie. Good job with make-up and John Barrymore's face distortions.**

**The legend of Popocatepetl and Itzaccihuatl is one of my favorites, and I just HAD to include it. I want to see them for myself someday and haven't been able to since I've only visited Jalisco and Cancun.**

**Translations:**

**(1) comrade**

**(2) little Teresa**

**(3) Forget it**

**(4) Stop**

**(5) Never again**

**READ AND REVIEW.**


	8. Gunning Down Romance

**Hey there! We're just about to reach the epic battle for all that's good and holy. Such as mochi.**

**Here's the first explanation: I am basing Russia and Mexico's relationship on the emergence of the Mexican Communist Party during the early 20th century. For example Frida Kahlo, the famous Mexican painter, was a very active communist, along with her husband, muralist Diego Rivera. This also included another Mexican painter, David Alfaro Siqueiros, who was a Stalinist. **

**Following threats to his life in Stalin's USSR, Mexico gave political asylum to Marxist leader Leon Trotsky, and he was hosted by Kahlo and Rivera in the Blue House (Kahlo's childhood home). Trotsky and Frida had an affair, but he and his wife Natalia left the house later on. Some time later, in his last residence in Mexico, Trotsky was attacked by one of his bodyguards in August of 1940. He died a day later. His grave is still located in Coyoacan, one of the _delegaciones _of Mexico City.**

**And that was how Russia became oh-so-awesome Hades and Mexico became nut-Meg. Shutting up now.**

* * *

It took three buses, two trains, and an entire day to get from the State of Mexico back to St. Louis. That and the fact that Arthur had to tell his former ward the truth about Mexico brought his spirits low. Slinging his dusty jacket over his shoulder, the Englishman brought his key out and opened the front door leading into America's living room.

Right away Matthew appeared behind one of the chairs and babbled apologetically, "A-Arthur! Listen, uh…I'm sorry about l-leaving you, uh, behind in Mexico! Al just er…uh…surprised me and shoved me onto the passenger seat before I could stop him! You're not mad are you?"

Arthur smiled kindly and patted Canada's arm. "Don't worry, Matthew. The trip was…illuminating. Listen, where's your brother?"

"Oh…great. Alfred's in the library…reading Walt Whitman."

"…Christ."

England stepped into the hallway, leaving a relieved Matthew alone. The young man was about to sit down again when there was insistent knocking on the door.

_Now what? _He thought as he went to open it. _I doubt Alfred's going out tonight, unless it's south of the border. _Pulling the door open, Matthew was surprised to see Lithuania before him. Concerned at the smaller country's nervous look, the Canadian asked, "Oh…hello, Toris. Is something wrong?"

The blue eyed young man fidgeted for a few seconds before finally stammering, "Good evening…Canada, sir…It is my friend, Latvia…He um…"

"He…?"

"…He got his arm caught in a bear trap!"

A huge smile appeared on Matthew's face at the word "bear." Assuming a pose usually attributed to America, Matthew leapt out of the house and onto the porch. "If there's one thing I know it's those horrid bear traps!" Throwing his arm over the stunned country's shoulder, Canada began strutting down the stairs. "Lead the way, my friend!"

Toris was a bit dumbfounded by the twin's instantaneous compliance. But he was not about to complain, even if he was on the verge of falling on his face. "Oh, thank you so much Mr. Canada! Thank you!" Slowly his free hand made its way to his pocket, and he pulled out a moist rag.

Swallowing nervously Lithuania's arm shot up and his hand covered Matthew's face. His violet eyes shot open in shock before he gasped. That was all it took and his eyelids began to droop until he slumped to the ground with a thud.

The Baltic nation stared down at Matthew guiltily then dragged the blond nation to a secluded space by the porch. Toris made sure he was breathing before running back onto the street.

_Forgive me, Canada. But it will go better for America and Mexico if you are not around._

Of course he had not realized that England had been with America.

The sight that greeted Arthur's eyes made him blink three times before he realized it was real. Alfred was indeed in the library, reading not books on war and battle, but a collection of Whitman poetry.

Alfred, sitting on an easy chair, turned to Arthur and smiled lazily. "Hey, Arthur…Y'know I never really got these poet types like Whitman, but…he's a genius." Sitting up, his eyes frantically searched for something on the page he was on. "Like this line where he talks about a girl's body! _'__I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless vapor, all falls aside but myself and it…(1)_' It's exactly how I feel about Terry! Her life...it just calls to me."

Arthur glanced away, making a noncommittal grunt. It irked him a bit that Alfred had forgotten about abandoning him in Mexico, but that was unimportant at the moment. "That's what I want to speak to you about, Alfred-"

The younger man suddenly stood up and grasped his mentor's shoulders, an excited grin on his face. "I knew people fell in love, but I never knew a country could fall in love! I mean…" He let go, turning away from the gaping Englishman and towards the window, where they could see the star-filled sky. "Teresa...she's the most amazing…I can't…I don't even _know_ if there are words to describe her in any language! What about Gaelic? Huh, Artie?"

"Alfred, I don't think…"

He went completely over him, "Yeah, you're right. There are no words!"

The brilliance in his blue eyes was too much for Arthur to bear. _Come on, get it together, Arthur. Just get it over with, and he'll be stronger for it._ He grabbed Alfred's shoulder and said, "I'm serious. You need to know-"

"It was the greatest night of my life. I'm…in _love _with Teresa! I love Mexico! And I owe it all to you, Artie."

The last bit caught Arthur off guard. "I-I'm sorry, what?"

"You're the one who taught me all about being assertive and making my decisions without hesitating. Well…I'm not gonna hesitate about admitting my love for her!" There was complete honesty in his flushed face.

England blanched, fully knowing that America was not lying. It was time to put an end to this. "Alfred, you have to listen to me! Mexico, she's-"

"A dream? Prettier than a Nebraska prairie? The most beautiful, genuine-"

"SHE'S A BLOODY FRAUD, ALFRED!" Arthur finally exploded, his shoulders tense with his anger. Alfred stepped back, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. The boy had shut up at last.

Arthur continued, hitting his fist against the wall, "That trollop's been lying to you from the beginning, you idiot! She doesn't give a damn about you! She wants to find out your weaknesses and exploit them!"

He waited for the look of horror to appear on Alfred's face. For the angry tears. Or perhaps he would declare war on Mexico. He could just imagine America yelling, _I'll show her not to mess with America! _

But nothing of the sort happened. He was still smiling, though it was more subdued. He let out a nervous chuckle before asking tentatively, "You're…You're just joking, right Artie? I mean…I know you don't like her, but you'd never say something so…"

"Everything coming out of my mouth is the honest to God truth, Alfred, whether you like it or not."

His mentor's face was unflinching and completely serious. Alfred refused to even _think _that Teresa would… "Arthur, you can't just…say stuff like that!" He was no longer smiling. He glared his disappointment at Arthur's unfair judgment of Teresa. "You know what this means to me! I love her!"

Arthur coldly replied, "She doesn't love you." He was about to explain what he had witnessed between Mexico and Russia, but Alfred grabbed him by the collar and shook him angrily.

"Take it back, Arthur! Just stop talking all this crap and take it back!"

The Englishman felt the slightest twinge of fear when he glared up at Alfred. He believed the young man was capable of great harm. The battle with Germany had proved that. But it was the truth, and Arthur would not take it back. "Mexico is nothing but a lying, scheming little traitor. Just like-"

Had he not been cut off he would've ended with 'Russia.'

America had shoved England roughly against the wall, making the older country slam his back and head.

The young man had drawn his fist back, prepared to beat an apology out of Arthur. However the look on his mentor's face made him stop in his tracks. There was no fear or anger. Just disappointment.

Alfred saw himself in that terrible moment. He was about to…

He let Arthur drop to the ground and looked at his fist in horror. Striking Arthur…it would've been like striking Matthew. Arthur was in his heart just as much as his brother and Teresa were.

He stammered, "Artie…I'm so…I'm sorry, I just-"

The nation got to his feet and dusted the seat of his pants off, ignoring Alfred. Calmly he said, "I've had enough. Frankly, I have no idea why I've stuck around this long. You seem to be perfectly capable of taking care of things."

He walked past Alfred, barely touching shoulders. The young man stared after him and asked, "Where are you going?"

Without looking back, Arthur answered, "Home to England. Where I belong."

Alfred stayed where he was, watching his friend walk away from him. It might have been an entire minute before he thought to go after him. Bolting outside he searched for England.

He had disappeared.

America squeezed the iron railing of the back porch, not understanding how things had gone so wrong. Why had Arthur accused Teresa of betraying them? _I didn't even give him a chance to explain…But he didn't have to insult her! _

He knew he would have to fix this. Alfred desperately wanted Arthur and Teresa to get along. Matthew would undoubtedly support him, of course, since brothers were supposed to stand by each other.

_Come to think of it, where IS Mattie?_ Alfred was surprised his twin hadn't come rushing in with all the noise. Perhaps it was just as well. He didn't want Matthew to walk out on him too.

Nothing felt right if Arthur wasn't there to guide him, but he had to make a decision. America needed to find Mexico and take her to England. They could figure out exactly what he was accusing her of, and she would prove him wrong.

"You are very lonely there, America, are you not?"

Alfred's head shot to the left, where he spotted a gray-haired young man leaning against the hood of a pitch-black car. "Russia?" He recognized the older nation from the conferences. The man's all too imposing figure walked towards him, a kind smile on his face."

"_Da_…I know about loneliness, America. You may have had England and Canada by your side, but in the end all you will have left is yourself."

Not sure if he liked where this was going, Alfred raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "Your point is…?"

Russia nodded. "_Da…da…_It is better not to waste time with words. Perhaps I should just demonstrate."

He reached out to the door and pulled it open, revealing a bound and gagged Teresa lying on the seat.

Horrified, Alfred ran to the car. "Terry!"

She moved at the sound of his voice, raising her head weakly. Mexico had not been unconscious, but dread and the tight binding made her body ache. She did not want to face Alfred at all, knowing what Ivan was about to do to him. His distraught face shattered her to pieces. Shaking her head Teresa tried pleading with her eyes. _Alfred, please get away! You don't know what he's planned for you!_

Relieved that she had opened her eyes, Alfred made to grab her and run for it but Russia's arm blocked him. He glared up at the older nation, fully intending to tear the smile off his face. "You bastard! What've you done to her?"

"Like you have requested, I am getting to the point." He lifted Teresa's small form by the rope, making her stumble after him as he walked them away from America.

The young man stood there, helpless. He wanted to save Teresa but not at the risk of Russia hurting her.

Ivan went on, "It is very simple, America. For a long time the Russian Empire was a power to behold…The good old days, as you would say. I stood equal to the British, the French, and the Spanish. The old, weak Czar is gone, but I am still not in control of the world, as I should be."

Alfred scoffed disdainfully. "Do you think I'll just hand over the keys of the world to ya? Forget it. Even if you did declare war on the world, you know we'd just kick your ass!

"All you've done is just waste your time."

Ivan gave a cold, cruel laugh while Teresa shut her eyes in despair. "I am not as idiotic as you are to not think things through, America. Why do you think I have brought Mexico here?" He tugged at her ropes, making her wince painfully.

America understood. He looked at her gently and told her, "Terry, don't worry! I'm gonna help you."

She only looked at him sadly, her glasses perched on the tip of her nose.

Half of him didn't want to go through with it, but his heart kept telling him that it was for Teresa's sake. "What do you want, Russia?"

He answered simply, "I want you out of the way when I begin the battle. Not only that, but you must give up your power as a country for an entire day."

"…What…?" Alfred had no idea it would be something as drastic as that. Being a country was everything he had ever wanted. If he gave it up he would be just as human as his citizens. He hadn't even thought about them! "But…my people…What's going to happen to them if I do this?"

"Nothing at all. There is still land for them to live upon, though the nation does not exist. Only your death would cause them true trouble.

Ivan's smile hid his malicious plan. Of course once Alfred was rendered powerless and the world was under Russia's control he would kill the blue-eyed man. "Besides, is Mexico not more important than your status?"

Alfred never tore his eyes away from Teresa. She was still shaking her head at him, her brown eyes gleaming. But he only thought about how she would be in danger during the battle. After all, she was still a part of the world. He knew the other countries would survive but would also have to swear fealty to Russia. Teresa may have been able to fight Spain and France, but if she were to be subdued by the rest of the world…

He made his decision, swallowing all reservations. "I'll do it. But…you have to promise that no harm will come to Mexico, or else it's no deal."

Mexico moaned furiously, unable to believe that America was even considering such a thing. _I don't deserve your help, Alfred! Save yourself!_

Ivan gave a genuine nod of affirmation. "So long as no harm comes to Mexico, your powers will be gone." He looked down, murmured quietly in his own language, and stuck his free hand out. "Shall we shake on it, America?"

The young man clenched his fist, knowing what this meant to the world if he let it happen. He could only hope that Arthur and Matthew would be alright. _Guys…keep yourselves alive. For me._

He opened his palm, offering it to Russia. Immediately he clasped it in his broad hand, wasting no time at all.

Alfred suddenly felt as though he was drowning and had to fight off a desperate gasp. He felt like his chest was being crushed under an immense weight, and the painful pressure brought him to his knees. For a brief moment he thought he saw tears in Teresa's eyes.

It stopped as soon as it began and Alfred was sprawled on the ground. His head was throbbing in pain and he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. _The air's too heavy…Something's wrong…_Every breath was excruciating, and he knew Russia had done something else to him. Of course he could do nothing about it now.

He heard Teresa sob and the sound of ropes rustling against fabric. Opening his eyes, with quite some effort, Alfred saw Russia free her arms, angry red welts on her tanned skin. She tore the gag off and once her legs were free she ran to Alfred, gently taking his face in her cold hands. Weakly he asked, "Are you alright...? Did he hurt you?"

Mexico tearfully shook her head. "Why…? You stupid man…You could've refused!"

Alfred closed his eyes, his throat burning. "No…couldn't…Had to save you."

Tears running down her cheeks Teresa touched her forehead to his. She would not let Russia harm Alfred. She would protect him in her own country until the day was over. Hopefully he would return to his status as a nation and depose the gray-haired nation.

Ivan had already walked back to the driver's side of his car, but he paused and looked back at the couple. Teresa was helping Alfred to his feet when the Russian began, "You are released from my service, _Litl-Meksiko_. From now on you will be on the same footing as the other countries. I will never forget what you have done for me."

She looked up, horrified by his cruel gaze and what he was saying. _No…Ivan…!_

Beside her Alfred looked at Teresa in confusion. Dark shadows had appeared beneath his eyes. "…What is he saying, Terry?"

Ivan grinned at him, saying, "Come now, Alfred. Why else would she even bother with you? I sent her to you so she would find out your weaknesses. Fortunately I found it out myself."

Alfred only stared at him, Teresa's gentle grasp becoming uncomfortable. The older nation went on, "After all you are nothing but a wishful boy playing hero."

The young man lowered his eyes, trying to hide the fear in his eyes. "You're…you're lying…Terry, you'd never do that, would you?" His voice was regaining strength. "Teresa, tell me he's lying!" Turning to her he saw the guilt in her face. She couldn't even look at him. He felt her hands trembling against his body.

_No…NO! _

Arthur had been right all along. Teresa…Mexico had led him to the gorge, where he and Matthew had almost died fighting Germany. She had approached him the night before to go out, possibly to get him talking about what his weaknesses were.

_She won't even look at me._ He pushed her away, regaining his balance just in time. _She's been lying to me from the beginning!_ He couldn't bring himself to glare at her hatefully, but only stared at her with a silent 'why.' _She never loved me…_

Teresa looked at him, shame and pain flooding through her. "Alfred…I didn't want to do this! He wanted me to tell him, but I could not!"

Alfred turned away from her, refusing to listen. The pain was lessening but everything still hurt.

"Alfred, I love you! You know me better than anyone ever did! I never wanted this to happen!"

Neither of them noticed Russia speeding away.

She reached for the man's shoulder. "Just look at me-"

"Get your hands off me."

The hate in his voice froze Teresa to the bone, and she let him go. He never once turned to look at her but stayed where he was.

_I can't just let Russia get away with this…If I go down, I'm going down fighting. For the world._

"You should get to the other countries, Mexico. They'll need you." His voice was listless when he addressed her. However she shook her head and answered, "I am not leaving you, Alfred. Yell at me, or hit me. I do not care. I will stay with you."

It made no difference in the blond man's mind. She had no power over him anymore. "Have it your way."

He walked off towards the east, where his life as a nation had begun.

Where it would end.

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**I guess we can call this the Great Depression?**

**(1) 'The Body Electric' from Leaves of Grass**

**That hurt...So much...Poor Iggy, Alfred, Terry, Mattie, Toris, Walt Whitman, Alfred's chair, Russia's car, and anyone else I've put through hell!**

**A second explanation: The big battle may be based on WWII, but it's not going to be the same, since I've made it clear that it was Russia+someone else vs. The World. Russia/USSR WAS part of the Allies during WWII! For the sake of a kolkol-ing Hades, I'm screwing with history. **

**May vodka have mercy on us all.**

**Read and review!**


	9. Ultimate Price

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**I really wanted to get this done before break ended and I was swamped by school, but alas, it was not to be.**

**This chapter was completed on Tuesday night, but I've had no internet for the past few days and I'm uploading from school. (January 31–February 2, 2011 North American winter storm) **

**I already had the second half of this chapter written out, so I had no worries. Now I can upload it, work on the next few chapters, and HOPE that I'll have internet/cable this weekend. _**

**Enjoy and don't get stuck in the snow.**

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It was up to China to prepare the fortress for the conferences. Had it been up to him they would usually be held in his homeland. But a majority vote declared that they would be conducted in the European continent, where the world supposedly met each other. Most were in the area, coming early for the next meeting. The older nation expected everything to go well, just as it always had. Of course, America's added enthusiasm was welcomed…by some.

Wang Yao placed the last chair by the table and stared at his handiwork, satisfied that everything was in order for the meeting. "Now, if only Feliciano would stop bringing pasta in here. Then I wouldn't have such a tough time cleaning, _aru_."

He was about to step outside, ready for a long sleep before the gathering, when he heard glass shattering behind him.

Immediately the nation turned around and saw that one of the windows had been broken, glass strewn throughout the floor. Wang Yao stared at it as a menacing shape crawled through the window pane, armed and wearing…the German army uniform.

His ice blue eyes rose to meet China's, and Germany gave a dark laugh. "You've had this defeat a long time coming, China."

The black haired nation heard explosions tearing through the fortress, and nearly stumbled as the building shook. Wang Yao clenched his teeth and demanded, "What is the meaning of this, Germany? Why are you attacking now?"

This time Germany was armed to the teeth, and he aimed his cocked rifle at the other nation. "_Dummkopf_! Have you any idea what my country went through after it was defeated? This time I will not be humiliated!"

More explosions tore through the area, and China could hear the screams of various people and countries. Narrowing his eyes, he smiled coldly and said, "You will regret this, _aru_."

Whatever happened between the two was enough to shake the very foundations of the fortress that once welcomed them for centuries.

Blue eyes scanned the battlefields, trying to find a familiar face. Alfred could not find Arthur, and Matthew was nowhere to be found.

He had enough strength to at least attempt to fight against the German troops, and perhaps put a dent in their numbers. He would be killed, undoubtedly. But there was honestly nothing left in him to care.

Behind Alfred appeared Teresa, who had run after him since St. Louis. She too saw the scene of devastation, and heard the battle cries. They were all familiar to her, but there had never been anything on this scale.

Alfred began walking towards the battle, rifle in hand. Mexico caught up to him and took hold of his arm. "You cannot go out there, Alfred!" She put herself in front of him, his emotionless face breaking her heart. She pled, "You are not a nation anymore. If you fight, you will be killed!"

He shrugged her hand away and pushed her aside. Walking away, Teresa heard him say, "There's nothing anyone else can do to hurt me."

Of course she knew what he meant. After everything she had done to him, he was not going to forgive her so easily.

In spite of how close they had become. In spite of her falling in love with him. The damage was already done.

Alfred had already disappeared, and the sun was quickly setting. If she worked fast Teresa could still save him and possibly make Russia's plan fall apart. She instantly remembered Arthur and Matthew. They would undoubtedly come to Alfred's aid and end this war before it escalated. _Arthur may not listen…But I have to try!_

Turning around, she ran as though vipers were at her heels.

She was once again at America's doorstep, banging her fist against the door. "Matthew! Matthew, please come out! Alfred's in trouble!"

A small voice from her left whimpered, "…Al..?"

Teresa peered at the other side of the handrail, spotting the young nation curled up into a ball on the grass. Shocked, she leapt over the rail and knelt beside Matthew. Gently she turned him face up, seeing that his eyes were still glazed over. "Matthew…? _Vamos_, open your eyes!"

Removing her shawl, Teresa covered his shivering body with it as his dark violet eyes focused on her.

Canada blinked a few times before recognizing the woman above him. "Teresa! What…what happened?" He brought his hand up to rub his aching head, surprised at the mud he found there. "I was going to help Toris save a bear…then I got dizzy." His eyes shot wide open and he flew straight up, exclaiming, "Alfred! He's in trouble! We've got to find Arthur!"

Teresa held on to him fast, preventing him from moving too much before he had regained full consciousness. "I know, Matthew! Please, calm down. The faster you do, the faster we can save Alfred."

"Arthur will know what to do. Where is he?"

The woman shook her head. "I do not know. Alfred was alone when…when Russia brought me here."

She helped Matthew to his feet, and he asked in a concerned tone, "Are you okay? Ivan didn't hurt you, did he?"

Her dark eyes closed guiltily. As Matthew drove them to the east, Teresa told him everything.

His response is almost everything she had expected. He expressed his disbelief and disappointment that she would ally herself to Russia after pledging to become an independent nation. He was angry that she had lied to everyone and put his brother's life in such danger.

In the end, as she stared at her hands in her lap, Matthew asked her, "Do you love Alfred the way he loves you?"

Teresa looked up at him, her eyes tender behind the spectacles. "With all of my heart."

Alfred's twin smiled, turning his eyes back on the road. "At least you're being honest now."

Once they were in New York, the duo scanned the crowds for that familiar pair of eyebrows. Matthew stepped on the brake and pointed at a retreating form. "That's him!"

The man turned to his left, revealing those thick eyebrows and vibrant green eyes. He was in a brown overcoat and carried a suitcase in his right hand.

As he parked the car, Canada asked, "Where on Earth is he going?" They raced after him, Teresa lagging behind to let Arthur see Matthew first. The violet eyed young man called out, "Arthur, wait! Come back!"

England turned, his brows furrowed. He spotted Matthew running towards him…followed by _that_ woman.

He glared pointedly at Mexico and shrugged Matthew's hand off of his arm. Arthur coldly said, "Forget it, Matthew. I refuse to have anything to do with this tramp. You should be making her pay for everything she's done to Alfred."

Teresa looked down at the ground, shame making her ears feel hot. Alfred's brother came to her defense and said, "Arthur, you don't understand! Alfred's in trouble and we need all the help we can get to save him!"

The older nation continued to frown, shooting back at Teresa, "Why would Alfred need me when he has you around? You've certainly done a bang up job of keeping him from doing anything stupid!"

Shaking her head, Teresa looked at him and cried, "He is not going to listen to me!"

"Glad to see he's finally doing something right!" Arthur began walking away from them, saying over his shoulder, "You can either follow me or stay with her, Matthew."

But the younger nation grabbed Arthur's arm, forcing him to look at them both. His eyes flashing, Matthew yelled, "PULL THE STICK OUT OF YOUR ASS AND LISTEN TO HER!"

The Briton and Mexican gaped at Canada, having never heard such an outburst from him. Arthur stayed put and Teresa pleaded, "What I did was completely cruel, and wrong! I realized that long ago. But this is not about me now. England…Arthur, if you do not help us, Alfred will die! And this is something he will not be able to come back from!"

England still frowned, but in thought this time. His experience in sorcery helped him figure out what Mexico meant by that. Arthur realized what Alfred had done. If a nation was killed, there was a slim chance they would return, or else be reborn as something else entirely. If Alfred was human, then he would _die_…

He painfully clenched his fist at the thought.

Matthew whispered, "Arthur, I know you want to save Al…Please."

The older nation looked up at them, his eyes narrowed at Teresa. He walked closer to her, slightly irked that she was taller, and growled, "I'm keeping my eye on you, Mexico. Try anything and I'll be right there with a gun and a shovel. I'll make sure you _never_ find your way out."

Mexico held his gaze, his threat resounding in her mind. "I understand."

Once again they made their way to the East, shifting from the mostly unaffected American front to the ravaged Europe.

The three ducked their heads as bombs exploded around them. They ran into groups of armed soldiers meeting each other heatedly in battle, bodies strewn throughout the Continent's landscape.

Arthur could not imagine the horrors befalling his own country.

For now they searched France, where American soldiers milled the beaches in an attempt to overwhelm the German soldiers.

Teresa saw plenty of her own people fighting alongside the Americans, and some of them reached as far as the Pacific. It would surely not be enough to earn Alfred's trust again.

"Look!"

She was the first to run over towards a group of soldiers huddled in a trench. At the opposite side were German soldiers, taking aim at the American side. Teresa had recognized Alfred's hay colored hair peeking out of the earth.

He turned to say something to one of his companions, and she caught sight of the bloody cuts and bruises on his fair face.

In that single moment, Teresa's heart stopped. Alfred looked as human as the rest of the soldiers. Vulnerable, afraid, brave, and utterly fantastic. His eyes were no longer dimmed by betrayal, but glowing with his fire. He still looked as though he could defy the entire world.

All she noticed was his face, and the way it changed from rage at his foes to terror. His lips formed words she could not quite hear, but she felt something heavy shove her down as an explosion made the earth rise into the air.

England held her down, but used his body to shield Canada. Dirt rained down on them, and horrible screams traveled through the air. Men cried out for limbs. For their mothers. For a priest. For a lover.

Matthew crawled out from beneath Arthur and ran into the dark cloud to find his brother. Arthur and Teresa went after him, their eyes stinging.

Looking at all the carnage through blue eyes, Alfred drew ragged breaths as he leaned on a discarded tower of truck wheels. Bloody gashes crossed over his arms, torso, and legs. But it was nothing compared to the remains of his soldiers. _God, please…Let them die fast…_

Slowly but surely, the screams and whimpers ceased.

"Alfred! Where the hell are you?"

The exhausted young man turned to see his brother coming towards him. He thought he could hear snippets of French-Canadian in the background…

Smirking, Alfred rasped, "Mattie…about time you showed your face."

The Canadian got on his knees and tried not to recoil at the sight of his twin's injuries. He instead laughed breathlessly and retorted, "I wouldn't be talking about my face at the moment, Al."

England found them and immediately kneeled beside the two. "Come on, Alfred. Get up! We can still win this!"

Alfred looked up at his mentor, to whom he had caused so much pain and annoyance. England, who was enduring the destruction of his country just to help him. He caught sight of her behind Arthur, and averted his eyes.

He missed the flash of pain in her eyes.

"It doesn't matter anymore, Arthur. You were right. I keep getting in way over my head."

The Englishman shook the American's shoulder in exasperation, "Now's not the time for admitting your stupidity, Alfred! There'll be plenty of time for that later. Right now, we do need you to give it your all!"

He grasped Alfred's chin in his hand and pulled it towards the advancing Germans. "If you could beat him before, you can do it again. Get up, Alfred. I know you can do this."

The words formed a safe haven for Alfred's heart to find shelter in. Smiling at his old friend, the American staggered to his feet and adjusted his rifle. Even if every step caused him pain he still went on towards the East.

Soon enough they arrived at the fortress, the old imposing building still standing, though chunks of wall were strewn on the land around it.

They all carried machine guns, supplied by both the British and American armies. The soldiers shot their way into the heart of Europe, the nations and Alfred leading them.

China had made quick work of Germany, making him fall back as far from the fortress as possible. But there was still the threat of the army, and the only ones around to protect the fortress were Alfred's group.

Teresa posted herself towards the north, keeping her machine gun aimed at the forest. Her trained eye would be able to pick off any sort of advance. Matthew and Arthur took the West and East, respectively. Alfred was in charge of the south, and his eyes raked below the cliff he stood on. He was ignoring the sting of his still bleeding temple, concentrating his eyes on the mob appearing on the horizon.

Even in the dark, Alfred could recognize Germany's ice-blue eyes. The tall man was at the head of the group, bruises on his face but otherwise still standing. Their eyes locked on each other's immediately, and Germany could see the difference in what used to be America.

It made no difference, though. Alfred took aim, ignoring his impaired sight, and fired, shooting at Germany's forces and either killing them or frightening them into retreat.

He watched as his own soldiers, as well as Britain's, Mexico's, and Canada's, fall in a tangle of bloody limbs. The tall nation glared up at the young man, trying to comprehend how a mere person, pretty much a subject of England, could even defeat him.

_If this buffoon doesn't kill me, Russia will…Mein Gott…_

They and the other nations had surrounded him completely, and had all but driven every last bit of his forces out of France. Germany bit his lip, trying to keep his hands from trembling. It had been nearly perfect…He had left a bomb ticking away somewhere within the fortress as he fought China, but that plan seemed to have been an utter failure.

Still above everything, Alfred watched Germany issue an order of retreat. A ridiculously triumphant smirk spread on his grimy face.

_I did it…It's almost over._

"ALRIGHT, ALFRED," Matthew cried out in absolute joy.

England could only breathe easily for a few moments, still feeling the effects of the war on his country. Still, he could spare an approving smile at his former colony. "Well done, you dolt."

Mexico stood away while Matthew clapped Arthur's back in victory. She only stared at Alfred's heaving shoulders as he stood on the edge, looking down at the retreating Germany.

She ached to go to him, beg for his forgiveness. She had brought him help, but not before trampling over his heart. She might as well have been aiming the rifle in her hands at him.

Her train of thought was interrupted by an explosion above them. In unison, Teresa, Arthur and Matthew looked up. A bomb had gone off in one of the upper flowers of the fortress. It had blown away an entire portion of the building, including sections of concrete wall and the remains of a heavy column.

Three pairs of eyes followed the path of the debris and discovered that it was plummeting towards America, who was still concentrating his aim on straggling enemies.

Canada sucked in a breath, intending to call his brother's attention. However a dark blur flitted past him, narrowly escaping England's grasp. A machine gun crashed onto the ground.

England yelled, "Stupid woman! Come back!"

Her legs pumped furiously as she stretched her arms out and prayed mentally. _Padre mio, ayudame…_

"_ALFRED, MOVE!"_

_Silence._

_Thunder._

_Darkness._

Thinking back on it, Alfred wasn't sure if he heard the explosion.

The rest he knew to be true.

A pair of hands shoved at his back, harder than he thought possible.

America was thrown off his feet, and he heard a devastating crash when he landed a few feet away.

"AL! TERESA!"

"NO!"

The landing had made him scrape his arm, adding to his other injuries. But the pain was dwarfed by the sound of Matthew's choked exclamation. "No…Oh my God, _NO!"_

Alfred leaned on one elbow, looking back at where he had been standing only a moment ago.

The sight he met made him wish he were in a nightmare. Horror-struck, he could not tear his blue eyes away.

Half-buried beneath the rubble lay Mexico, facedown and her hair strewn on the ground.

Her arms were spread at awkward angles, and debris continued to rain down onto her still body.

He prayed it was only a dream. Something out of a horror film.

Edward Hyde HAD to turn back into Henry Jekyll.

But he was proved wrong when he saw Arthur and Matthew, disbelief etched on their faces. She was not moving…

He couldn't see her face…

Alfred screamed, "_NO!"_

His throat became sore as he gave voice to his pain.

He stood up, ran to Teresa, and began lifting the rubble off of her. Matthew immediately went to help and was about to lift the heavy column from the woman when Alfred took it himself. His violet eyes stared in shock as his brother heaved the heavy column away.

Arthur, who had knelt beside Teresa to examine her, gaped at Alfred. "…Your strength…Alfred, your country's strength has returned!"

The American paused and stared down at his hands, then his arms. The bloody injuries…they were, for the most part, healed. He felt like he could now take on the entire world. "How—How is this happening?"

The three men heard a weak whimper from Teresa and quickly looked down at her. She had turned her dirtied face towards Alfred, her pain in her eyes and her small voice. "Ivan…His deal is broken—_ay!" _She winced, the effort to speak too much.

Matthew looked at his brother with full understanding. "She's right…Russia swore to you that as long as she didn't get hurt your power as a country was his."

Alfred closed his eyes, knowing his twin was right. His pained gaze settled on Teresa, whose breathing was shallow and painful to hear. He was afraid to touch her, not wanting to further hurt her.

Surprisingly Arthur laid a gentle hand on Teresa's shoulder and bent down to whisper in her ear without a trace of anger. "Mexico, I'm sorry but I'm going to have to move you. Can you manage helping me out a bit?"

Teresa slowly attempted to move her legs, but she cried out pitifully and froze. Watching the way her fingers clawed at the ground, Alfred shook his head and pleaded, "Arthur, she can't do it! W-we need to wait for some morphine, or something!"

England only looked at him grimly and said, "We're too far away from any medical treatment. The other nations will be concentrating on their own soldiers. If we wait, it may be too late to help her, Alfred."

She gasped, "It hurts too much…Just leave me here…"

"Nonsense." Arthur suddenly took one of her shoulders and turned her face up, ignoring her pitiful cries as best he could. As gently as he could he gathered her broken body in his arms.

Teresa cried out, "_Ay, no! _Please…just stop…!" Her sobs made Alfred clench his teeth, watching helplessly as his mentor carried Mexico away from the damaged fortress.

Matthew helped him up, saying encouragingly, "Don't worry, Al. Arthur knows what he's doing."

Alfred lagged behind them, hoping his brother was right. He could have sworn he felt the earth southwest of America crack apart. He could hear millions of terrified screams and prayers from so far away. _Of course, I can hear them. I'm America again. I'm right above her._

As they neared the forest, England laid Mexico on the soft grass. Canada removed his coat, folded it into a pillow, and placed it beneath Mexico's head.

America knelt beside Teresa, realizing that all of his prior anger at her had disappeared. All that was left was his love, adoration, and complete fear that he was going to lose her. Her eyes, still behind the dirtied lenses, fluttered open and she gazed up sadly at Alfred.

Matthew and Arthur moved away from them, claiming to be talking out some way to take care of the young woman. Of course they just wanted to give Alfred and Teresa some privacy.

The young man carefully moved a stray curl away from the dark face and asked, "Terry…Why the hell would you pull that stunt? You knew that you'd be…" He could not bear to finish. She was indeed a nation, but the damage to her was unimaginable.

She managed a small smile and answered quietly, "_Idiota…_Nothing that happened to me would be worse than losing you." She shut her eyes in a pained wince and added, "Alfred…I love you."

America let out a breathless laugh after finally hearing the words he'd wanted to hear from her all along. His elation was only broken by the knowledge that she was dying. He gently stroked her cheek and said, "Aw, Terry…Teresa, I love you too…"

Their gazes met, and they felt everything that had gone unsaid for the entirety of their relationship. She loved his carelessness and determination. He loved her natural beauty and surprising strength. Neither of them wanted it to end.

Unfortunately reality caught up with them, and Arthur was on his knees beside them, gently saying, "Teresa, some of your ribs are broken, as well as your left leg and pelvis. There may be internal injuries as well, and I'm afraid any other movement will make it worse."

The young woman shook her head, her jaw set against any emotion brought on by England's bleak diagnosis. "It does not matter. Alfred, you have to…stop Ivan before it is…too late."

A stubborn frown on his face, Alfred answered, "Forget it. I'm not leaving you alone!"

"Don't be an ass…You're his equal in strength, and you can stop him. H-here…" It was with great effort that she raised her hand to remove her glasses.

To everyone's shock, Mexico placed them in America's hand and said, "Take them. You need these…more than I do. They are yours now."

Texas. California. Nevada. The Southwestern Territories.

She was offering her land to him. The very land she had won from Spain.

Part of Alfred didn't want to accept them. It would mean admitting that Mexico would die. She squeezed the glasses into his hand insistently until he took them and cleaned them up with his shirt. Even before they settled on the bridge of his nose, he could tell that his vision was becoming sharper.

She was not only handing Alfred something to aid his sight. She was giving him her very self. Once they were on, America stood straighter, feeling the completeness which had eluded him for so long. With his clear vision he could really see Mexico.

Her wavy hair was completely lose and framed her lovely face. Her eyes shone brightly, and the sight took Alfred's breath away. "You're so damn beautiful…"

Canada gazed at his brother, who now looked just like him in everything but height and hair style. "Wow…we're identical…!"

He bent to brush his lips with hers and whispered against her warm skin, "I'll come back with help. I swear." When he lifted his gaze to Arthur's he saw nothing but pride in his mentor's face.

England solemnly promised, "I'll stay with her, Alfred. Matthew, go with your brother."

Matthew stood up, looked at Arthur and Teresa, and took his brother's wrist. "Come on! We've gotta run!"

The North American twins sped to the East, towards Russia and where the other countries were trying to keep themselves afloat.

_Hang on for me, Teresa. For me and your people!_

_

* * *

_

_Yes, Mexico was part of the Allies during WWII, sending their forces to both Europe and the Pacific. _

I have no idea why the editing is being so screwy with my A/N, but whatever. As long as the chapter itself is fine, italics and bolds wise...

WHOOF. This was the chapter giving me the most trouble! ...I was going to say more, but I'm stumped...

I'll just leave off with this: Someone messes with ya give 'em the LAAAAZY EYE.

Matthew:...Ah, gee, I'm afraid to ask...Okay, what's the "Laaaazy Eye?"

Alfred: The LAAAAAAAZY EYE. =w(O)

Matthew: EEP.

If you guess where that's from, I'll give you a nickel. (Not really, but just guess so we can all be sappily nostalgic.)


	10. With A Heavy Heart

**Forgive the late update. There's now a drawing of Teresa on my dA linked on my profile! Along with Maukaite Chikyu a la Mexicana.**

* * *

The lands Alfred had acquired from Teresa stretched all the way to California and Texas, yet he felt like he had arrived at the peak of his strength. Her language lay on the tip of his tongue, adding to the myriads within him. All of that new power invigorated him for battle.

He had long since taken the wheel from Matthew, preferring his own speedy, neck-breaking driving skills to his twin's obsessively slow pace. They had no time to lose. They had to defeat Russia and try to help Mexico. Even Canada could feel the tremors befalling the nation.

"Al…Teresa was hurt badly. I don't know if she'll…"

America glared at him, his hand gripping the wheel until his knuckles turned white. "She'll make it, Matt." He looked completely set against any other option. "I promised…that we'd see each other again. A hero keeps his promises!"

Matthew looked down at his lap, hoping that his brash twin was right in assuming that Mexico would survive. Come to think of it neither of them knew if they were going to come out of this thing alive. Russia loomed in their minds like a dark bird of ill-omen. Teresa was already injured, probably dying. At this rate, anything could go wrong.

It was hours before they began to feel the cold winds of the north on their skin. The landscape was all white, the snow littered by blood and the bodies of the dead and wounded. They recognized the emblems of various nations, most of them from their allies.

"We're here."

It was another fortress, smaller than the recently destroyed one in the west, but still a worthy rival to Versailles. The entire building was littered with gaping, smoking holes from the shells that pummeled it.

The car came to a screeching stop, America shoving the door open and ordering his twin, "Get moving! Find France, China, any of them!"

Canada nodded, already sprinting towards Russia's stronghold.

An intricate troop layout awaited them, each unit carrying heavy artillery that was destroying the fortress. Alfred, aware of his and Canada's men joining the ambush, scanned his surroundings, searching for a familiar face.

He heard France's command, followed by an explosion and a long whistle. Alfred watched as one of the shells hit its mark, a section of wall that crumbled from the fortress, along with several soldiers that littered the ground like leaves.

Canada breathed, _"Mon dieu…"_

America called out as he ran towards the older nation, _"Francis!" _The man turned, his blue eyes widening at the sight of the twins.

"What on earth are you two doing here? Where is _Angleterre?_"

Closing his eyes involuntarily, Alfred answered as he took his place beside France, "He stayed behind, and his troops are defending the west. Fortress or no fortress, that's still the place where we've been holding the World Conference!"

Both Matthew and Francis stared at the young man, catching sight of that boundless determination in his eyes as he armed a rifle procured from one of the American soldiers. It was then that Francis noticed the glasses. "But those are…" His handsome face fell. "_Mexique…"_

Alfred did not answer and went straight to where his troops armed the artillery. Canada, opting for a machine gun, answered grimly, "She was hurt when the fortress fell. Arthur stayed with her to make sure she was okay. All of a sudden…she gave Alfred half of her territory."

France drew in a sharp breath and glanced back at the younger nation.

America expertly shouted orders, his own assault on Russia starting. Rage roared in those young eyes. A raw, intense hunger, known to every nation, called for blood.

Biting his lip, France realized just how personal this had all become for America. He turned back to the fortress, wondering how badly Mexico was injured.

**_HETALIA!_**

"_WE'RE GOING TO DIE!"_

"Calm down, Toris!"

"_THEY DESTROYED THE KITCHEN! THAT'S IT! WE'RE SUNK!"_

Raivis stared at Lithuania despairingly as the building crumbled around them. They, along with Estonia and Russia, were on the fifth story, watching the assault. Ivan sat at his desk, his gloved hands clasped before him.

Even before America and Canada had arrived, they knew Russia was doomed. The other nations had infiltrated their borders and overtook their defenses. Germany had retreated, leaving them without an ally. Russia himself seemed agitated as he relayed orders to fire, his fists shaking.

Raivis chanced a peek through a window before quickly retreating from it. He had stared directly at the tall American, and what he saw made his stomach roll unpleasantly.

He was wearing Teresa's glasses.

"She's dead," he murmured. "Teresa…is dead…America is wearing her glasses!" He fell to his knees, his shoulders shuddering.

Eduard, who was trying to salvage a priceless Faberge egg collection with glue, looked up from his work and stared at Latvia incredulously. "She…No, she cannot…" He turned to Russia, who maintained his serene smile.

The country softly said, "It is her own fault. Count yourselves lucky that you all decided to remain loyal." His smile twitched as his eyes narrowed. "So, America has more territory. A larger population. That could prove…beneficial yet unfortunate."

The three nations said nothing, even as they felt the building's foundations shake.

**_HETALIA!_**

"Fire! Keep firing!" Alfred brought his fist down, still standing as the explosions sounded around him. He watched as the bombs hit their target, his eyes catching every single piece of rubble from the building. _It's coming down…I can feel it. Can you feel it too, Teresa? _The new link to Mexico allowed him to feel the people's terror. The earth shook and the hurricanes took everything to the sea.

When the quake hit Mexico City, America felt the emotions like gunshots, and he nearly doubled over. He gritted his teeth and gripped his rifle, thinking not about a broken Mexico. He thought about the vibrant young woman who laughed good-naturedly at his horror in the theater, and then of the green mountains that told the story of the warrior sitting vigil for his beloved princess. _She was smiling back then. She always smiled, especially when she was telling me a story…_

Alfred thought of her rosy lips, frozen in that smile as he leaned in closer. All he had managed was a kiss on her soft cheek, but it was enough to send him into frenzy afterwards when he thought about it. _She has really soft skin._

He suddenly heard a command given in broken Russian, then caught sight of a dark shape speeding through the air towards them. The soldiers began to scatter, the commanders trying to maintain order as the shell passed over them.

America ducked, along with his men and the other countries, waiting for the explosion.

The sudden burst of dusty wind nearly knocked the prostrated men aside, but hundreds of objects whistled through the polluted, snow-filled air. In a single instant, debris hit those caught off-guard, and Alfred heard the screams around him.

He recognized Matthew's broken voice, "_Alfred! _Hurry! France's hit!"

Alfred straightened and spotted his brother crouched over the older nation. Matthew's forehead was cut and bleeding, but Francis was unconscious, his face pale and covered in dirt and a dark red spot spreading on his dark green uniform. The Canadian was trying to stop the bleeding with his jacket as Alfred kneeled down next to him. "Is there an exit wound?"

His brother's grimy hands shook as they became wet with his former caretaker's blood. "I…I couldn't…There wa…wasn't any…" He was cut off by a sudden grunt of pain from Francis. Alfred held him still and firmly said to Matthew, "Keep putting pressure. That's it…"

Canada nodded, his glasses threatening to fall off his nose as he leant over Francis. A minute later China and Japan arrived and took over for Matthew, getting to work on the injured nation. Alfred pulled his twin away from Francis' muffled screams—there was no morphine available—and continued their attack on the half destroyed fortress.

It was Canada who yelled one of the last orders to his army, _"Keep shooting! Give it all we've got!"_ Then they all stared at the whistling shells that flew from each Allied nation. Their hands were tight fists; they wanted to end it now.

Inside, the Baltics heard Russia's teeth grind.

The blasts decimated what was left of the foundations, and the fortress crumbled to pieces. Alfred inhaled and exhaled slowly as the scent of dust, gunpowder, and iron filled his nostrils. The rifle slipped from his slack grip, and he watched as the smoke and dust cleared.

Russia's forces were either dead or retreating.

Alfred noticed the part of him that _yearned_ for total destruction. The part that wanted Russia dead.

But there was something more important that called him. Not his people's joy at the sudden victory, or his allies. He had to see if she was alright. He wanted to see her face as he came back for her, just as he'd promised.

His mind muted the elated cheers around him, and he barely caught France's victorious cries. The soldiers were caught up in simultaneous songs of life and death, rejoicing at their success.

Matthew seemed to understand and joined his brother. Alfred turned to him as they ran, seeing his brother, his friend, bearing that same determination and fire that he and Teresa carried. England, France, and Spain were another thing entirely. Alfred had his brother and his lover at his side, and he never wanted to lose either of them.

His twin gave a grim smile and nodded, sharing his thoughts. Matthew. Dear, dependable Mattie. America gazed at him gratefully as they walked towards China.

The young man grasped Yao's shoulder, and explained with desperation, "Mexico got caught in the fortress's collapse, and she tried to pull me out of the way! Please, Yao, you've got to help her!"

The older man stared at him in shock, but he shook his head with dejection. "Forgive me, America...Japan and I took heavy casualties-_aru_. We have to stay with them."

America shook his head as he yelled, "But she's running out of time! Don't you get it? Teresa's going to die, and if she goes so does her nation!"

"_¿Que…?"_

Alfred turned, finding a dirt-covered yet mostly uninjured Spain staring at him in disbelief. The European country's green eyes were tinged with horror, leaving Alfred with no doubt about his feelings. "How…But…Is that why…you took her glasses…?" There was an accusing tone in his question.

Matthew immediately came to Alfred's defense. "Teresa gave them to him herself! She's still alive! Spain, do you think you can help her?"

America kept his relentless stare on Spain, who wasted no time in answering, "_Si. _I will try…"

Nodding with finality, Alfred muttered, "Let's get going. England's taking care of her, and he might be waiting for news…"

He barely noticed how the rest of the world subdued the defeated Russia.

**_HETALIA!_**

Arthur maintained his silent vigil at Teresa's side, kneeling beside her and becoming discouraged by the sound of her shallow breaths. Night fell swiftly, so he had draped his jacket over her trembling body. He had realized that morphine would have eased her pain, or at least eased her passing. The English nation watched her pale, withdrawn face without malice or blame, wondering if she would live. And if she did die, what would happen to Alfred?

He became lost in those forbidden thoughts until he was called back by Mexico's whimper, "Alfred…_Perdoname, mi amor…_"

Arthur leaned closer and gently ordered, "Save your energy, Mexico. He…He'll be along shortly. You can count on that."

Her brown eyes opened, staring back at England's green ones. Her gaze was filled with understanding and tenderness. "Arthur…I know you must detest me…"

The man brushed it aside. "Rubbish. Now will you keep quiet-"

"You need to hear this, Arthur…" Her swallow sounded painful, and the ensuing gasp made Arthur cringe. "I never wanted to betray Alfred. That night…was the happiest of my life…" Tears appeared in her eyes, making a trail into her hair as she blinked. "The last thing…I wanted to do was hurt him the way I did…"

England bit his lip, his own tears threatening to spill over. He was moved by pity to gently wipe her tears away. _She loves him. No one who loves him so much could be…all bad._ He tried to keep his voice under control as he told her, "I realize that. And…as much as I didn't want to admit it, you've always been worthy of him…And you know I can hardly deny him anything."

Her grateful smile made him feel torn between happiness and sorrow. When she suddenly let out a painful cry, Arthur moved sharply and took her hand in his. "Teresa, you have to hold on! For your people! For Alfred! They all need you to live!"

She squeezed back weakly, still smiling. "When…When I fought Antonio all those years ago…I was prepared to die for what I loved most. I don't re…regret dying for Alfred…" More tears spilled onto her dirt-streaked face. "I know…I _know_ he will care for my people…He will make them…warriors…" Her eyes were glazing over, and she was gasping for each painful breath. _"Santa Maria, Madre de Dios…"_

Arthur's heart filled with dread and began to squeeze her hand, yelling, "Don't die, _do you hear me? DON'T DIE!"_

"_Ruega…por nosotros…"_ Her grip began to falter.

"Mexico! TERESA!"

"_Los peca…pecadores…ahora y…"(1)_

England trembled as he squeezed her hand, and he watched her body seize slightly. Her grip became slack, and the Mexican Empire softly let her last breath go.

England stared at the dead woman, refusing to let go of her hand. He felt no pulse through her skin. Her rosy lips were slightly parted and her eyes were closed forever. The wind sifted through her listless, dark brown curls.

The man heard the cries of a million voices as their nation succumbed, the capital destroyed. From the northern deserts to the southern jungles, the country was shrouded in darkness.

Arthur let her hand drop to the ground, were it lay still.

Suddenly he began beating the ground with his fist, swearing at the sky as his hand bled, "_GODDAMMIT! SON OF A BITCH! WHY? WHY?" _He ignored his physical pain and the tears stinging his eyes.

Mexico was dead. Teresa was dead. He had failed Alfred.

Arthur gazed down at her, grief and rage beating him down. His tears fell on her face as he growled through gritted teeth, "Damn you…Don't you realize what this will do to him…?" His wracking sobs shattered the peace of the forest where he had once lost Alfred. "I'm sorry, Alfred…"

With the greatest tenderness, his hands arranged her features so that she at least looked as though she were at peace. England did not want Alfred to think she had suffered…

**_HETALIA!_**

Canada drove, this time speeding through the road as Spain and America gripped their doors with impatience. Antonio was already aware of how Teresa became injured, and he was glaring at the back of Alfred's head. "And you just left her alone? In pain? Is that how you repaid her?"

Alfred turned and shot back, his blue eyes glinting with fury, "Do you think I wanted this to happen? But I couldn't just stay there and do nothing while Russia was still in power! And I trust Arthur! He won't let any-"

_¡AUXILIO!_

_¡DIOS MIO, AYUDAME! (2)_

Alfred doubled over in his seat, a wave of nausea closing his throat and a sharp pain pounding into his eyes. The horrified cries, Spanish and indigenous, flooded his head as he felt the nation rip apart. _No no no no no…_He felt the car skid as Matthew applied the brakes, heard his brother's concerned voice, "_Al…Alfred, what's wrong?"_

He wanted to stop that final image from appearing but it still did. Her face, pale and still as her curls formed a rich frame. Her skin lost its vibrant color, and her lips did not move. So unfitting in a face that had a thousand expressions.

Alfred choked on his own breath and opened his eyes, the glasses on the car floor, along with several of his tears. "…Mattie, drive."

"Al…"

"_NOW!"_

Matthew said nothing as he sped through British lines, giving Antonio a warning glance as he reached one hand over to pat his brother's back. Alfred had hidden his face in his hands, so only his gritted teeth were visible as he grimaced.

Slowly news of the victory spread through the world, but they all began to realize that something was horribly wrong in Central America.

Spain, through his own fragile link to his former colonies, knew something was wrong, and he knew America was fully aware. "Canada…You and America do realize what Mexico's death might mean."

Canada replied tersely, "We _do_ know, Spain. We know about Ancient Greece."

Alfred shook his bowed head, murmuring, "She's not dead…She's not dead…"

The familiar lands of the old fortress finally came into view, and Matthew shuddered as he felt the aura of despair that hung around the area. "My god…I think that's from Arthur…"

Finally raising his head, Alfred feverishly stared ahead and tried to find a trace of England or Mexico. "I…I don't see…"

"¡_Miren!" (3)_

Spain pointed out England's hazy outline. America followed his gaze, and found his mentor crouched over something stretched out on the ground.

He'd known what it was all along.

When they arrived at the base of the hill, Alfred leapt out of the car and ran across the rubble-littered ground to reach the top. "Arthur! Arthur!" He tried to catch his breath, the top of the hill seeming so far off. His arms and legs burned, as though he were a human struggling through the thickest forest. _I have to make it up there…I have to…_

Struggling through the pain, America made it, and he found a kneeling Arthur. The English nation's back was to him, and he was staring down at a motionless body. Arthur blocked Alfred's view of her face.

The boy breathed out, "…Arthur…?" He felt Matthew's fleeting touch of his hand, and saw Spain fall to his knees beside him.

The man turned slowly, his eyes rimmed with red. Arthur's anguished stare dug into Alfred like a knife, and he finally looked past England to see what he most feared.

England's coat covered Teresa from the chest down, either for protection against the cold or to cover the obvious injuries. The blush from her cheeks had disappeared, replaced by a stone color that had no place there. She looked just as she had in Alfred's mind. Silent, peaceful, and empty.

Alfred, falling to his knees beside her, sobbed out, "Terry…Teresa…!" She did not move or answer in any way. More sobs wracked through Alfred's throat as he gathered Mexico's broken body in his arms.

He held her there, rocking unsteadily on his knees, trying to call back the warmth into her skin. "Teresa, _please…!_ Please, you can't…"

Behind him, Spain moaned softly in Spanish, begging for Mexico's forgiveness. Matthew suddenly went over to Alfred and leaned his forehead on his older brother's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Alfred…"

A second hand touched his back, and Alfred heard Arthur's broken voice say, "...It's something all nations learn, Alfred…We can't…We can't always solve everything…"

_Oh, Teresa…_

Tears falling onto his lenses, America gently squeezed Mexico's cold body in his arms, realizing that it was the first time he had held her in such a way. He gazed down at her face, wanting to see her glorious smile and the brilliant light in her eyes.

No. Maybe backing down worked for the rest of the world.

But not for him.

"…There's no way I'm just going to take this, Arthur…There's not a damn thing anyone can do to stop me from trying."

* * *

**Please, forgive ALL the delays! Real life and general writer's block have kept me from this fic and Cruz Rosa. I bought Paint it White a couple of days ago and decided to watch it for some inspiration. Hopefully I'll be able to finish before my winter break ends. Thank you all for your helpful and encouraging reviews! _Viva Mexico! _(REALLY)**

**Translations:**

**1: Holy Mary prayer, unfinished. :(**

**2: Cries for help.**

**3: Look!**

**R & R**


	11. Rise to Glory

**I owe everyone an overdue apology and explanation. **

**I really did mean to finish this story in time, but then other things came into play, I had to deal with things on my RP site, schoolwork, and life in general. RotG came out and I decided to dedicate all of my energy this last winter-break to finishing **_**The Snow Fairy **_** because I KNEW that if I left it there, it would languish as badly as this fic. You'd think I'd manage to find some time to pay attention to Alfred and Teresa.**

**But then I got a PS3 and Skyrim. Months later I got Oblivion and Bioshock Infinite. My free time was spent on THOSE stories (hosted on my RP site), and I kind of forgot about **_**Zero to Hero. **_**That was ill-done of me, and I am...pretty much kicking myself right now.**

**To everyone who's stuck by this story for the past two and a half years, thank you so much and I am SO sorry for this horrible hiatus. **

**Now here's **_**Zero to Hero. **_**Enjoy, my friends!**

* * *

Ivan smiled.

His armies fell, and his followers begged his enemies for mercy.

His plan failed and a new country was on the brink of entering the fold.

And an old one was about to fall into darkness.

It didn't matter.

Though beaten, Russia smiled, because in the end he shook America to the core. That would be enough, for the moment.

_**HETALIA!**_

"_Aún está hermosa."(1)_

Matthew looked up at Antonio's murmur, throat seizing when he saw that the Iberian nation was still holding Teresa's body in his arms. His green eyes were on her pale face, gazing at her with all of the sadness and adoration he could possibly summon. As though that could bring her back. But Teresa was not responding. Arthur tried to use his ancient magic, but he was subject to limitations as Mexico was, old as she was. She was dead, body broken beyond repair.

But Canada did not want to upset Spain further. He nodded, saying in a tight voice, "Yeah…she is."

Had Alfred been there he probably would have agreed. But Alfred was long gone, having crossed the border to do whatever he could to try and save Teresa. None of the countries had the heart to stop him, realizing how unlikely Mexico's salvation would be. However they let him go, if only to hold on to some semblance of hope.

Through their ancient connection, Canada felt the violent tremors the southern country was experiencing, and heard every scream of pain and terror. By the look on Spain's face, he was probably feeling the same, and Matthew felt twice as terrible. After all Spain was to Mexico what France and England had been for the younger nation.

_They suffer when we're in pain. If we die…it's like a part of them dies with us._

And Antonio did look as though he'd lost something so beautiful and precious. His pain could only be mirrored by Alfred, who was still going to fight in spite of the hopelessness of the situation.

_**HETALIA!**_

The land was devastated. Catastrophic aftershocks created cracks in the earth, and fires destroyed entire forests and cities.

Alfred walked through the land and found ghosts. They lived, they breathed, they were whole. They were dead behind the eyes. Angels fell around them and they could only fall beside them. They drowned in mud, dirt, floods, and blood.

For the first time, America was truly afraid and devastated. His hope threatened to buckle as he tried to make his way through the fallen, and find something that would ensure Mexico's survival.

He'd thought about what her survival would mean over the last long hours. There were countries that faded. There were countries that split apart into separate entities. There were countries that changed entirely, forgetting what they once were.

Alfred was in the desert, hot winds whipping his hair as sand and grit got into his eyes. _She might forget me. She might not be Teresa anymore._

Retaining her self as everyone once knew it was a long shot. But she had to live. Mexico _had_ to survive, whether she changed or not. He'd long since learned that change was necessary for the sake of the greater good. Hadn't that been his aim his entire life?

He walked on, tears leaving tracks on his dirt-stained face as he passed the broken bodies along the roads and the ruins of once-great stone figures.

Suddenly Alfred spotted a flicker of green in the distance, surrounded by mountains. They looked familiar, but he couldn't immediately recognize them. All he could do was walk towards the oasis as quickly as he could, knowing in his heart that there was something important there. _I have to make it there. It's the only place that's still whole!_

As he neared the green, he could hear deep rumbling coming from beneath the earth. Alfred stopped in his tracks, fearing another aftershock. _Not another one. Please, not another one…_ Swallowing, he looked towards the mountains, and saw that one of them was expelling black smoke in thick plumes.

_Something about those mountains…Why can't I remember?_

America walked closer still, and something appeared in the middle of the green valley. A dark figure, crouched over something in the ground, all alone with its back to him. No longer needing to squint, Alfred could see it clearly. The person had dark brown hair and was dressed in a cream-colored tunic with short sleeves. Getting to its feet, Alfred saw that it was just a child, legs thin and gangly. The child turned towards him and Alfred's heart flew up to his throat.

Those brown eyes…They were Teresa's.

But she was a child, the top of her head coming up to Alfred's waist. Her dark face had the round softness of childhood, but her eyes still held the same ferocity. She was looking at him as though she was surprised he existed. Like she didn't expect to be found.

Alfred breaths came in shudders. This was the girl Spain found all those centuries ago. Untouched by the world and innocent of its treachery. He knelt in front of her, coming level to her curious face. "H-hi…What's your name?"

She frowned at him, the small v between her brows hitting him with a sharp pain. "Don't know," she answered with a shrug. Her voice was higher, bearing no bitterness or anguish. But at the same time there was nothing of _Teresa_. "I just remember being here. I don't know how I got here, or where I am."

America sighed in dismay. This had to be Mexico, but…was her spirit so broken that she would never remember who she was? He looked around them, trying to figure out a way for her to recall _something_. The volcano continued to spew out smoke, blocking out the sun and lightly covering everything with ash. Alfred's eyes fell on the second volcano close to it, silently tracing its shape in his mind's eye.

Then he remembered that same volcano's silhouette against the night sky, and Teresa's light brown finger tracing the shape of a woman in repose.

He exclaimed, heart racing, "It's…We're in the Valley of Mexico!"

Little Mexico looked up, having returned to whatever was lying on the ground. "What?"

He looked at her, hoping that his words would stir something in her memory. But her brown eyes remained blank. "…This place. It was really important to a friend of mine. See those volcanos?" He pointed up at the pair.

She followed his finger and asked, "What about them?"

"Well, uh…Doesn't the smaller one look like someone sleeping on their side?" Alfred begged loudly in his heart for her to realize that those volcanoes were a part of her. That she'd shared their story with him.

Mexico glanced at him, confused, and replied, "Kind of. I thought they just looked like regular volcanoes."

Alfred sat down, crossing his legs, and gestured towards the smoking volcano with a hint of impatience. "But haven't you wondered why that one keeps smoking? My friend told me a story about them. Want to hear it?"

The girl kept frowning, but finally sat down in front of him.

This had to work. Alfred rubbed the back of his neck and tried to remember everything Teresa told him. "Um…Okay…A long time ago, there was a princess and a warrior. Their names were…" Remembering how badly he'd butchered the names, he shook his head. "I-it doesn't matter what their names were. The point is they were in love. Except the princess's dad didn't want them to be together, so he told the warrior to go to war so he could prove that he was brave enough to marry the princess."

Her interest surfacing, Mexico inched closer.

"So the warrior went to war and defeated a ton of enemies. But this other guy hated the warrior, and went to the princess to tell her that the warrior was dead. She was so sad afterwards and died of a broken heart."

The girl gasped in dismay. "No!"

While the reaction was encouraging, Alfred couldn't see any light of remembrance in her eyes. He had to try harder. "But…then the warrior went back home, and wanted to marry the princess. Then he found out she was dead, and…he didn't know what to do. He wanted nothing more than to stay beside her forever, so he took her body and went out into the wilderness. He lay her down on the ground and stayed with her until he died eventually. The gods felt bad for them, so they turned the lovers into volcanoes. The one that's smoking is the warrior, still mourning the princess beside him."

He turned his gaze towards the volcanoes, unable to look at the girl. "See that's why he's smoking right now. He misses the princess."

There was silence for a few moments, but then a soft voice beside him said, "…Itzaccihuatl."

Alfred quickly looked at her again. She remembered. She remembered the name! "Y-yeah. Yeah, that's right! That's the princess's name!"

She nodded, frowning as though she were thinking hard. "And the warrior…He's…" She raised her gaze to the pillar of smoke. "Popocatepetl. He was a warrior…an Aztec warrior."

Nodding frantically, Alfred kept on encouraging her. "Yeah, Popo and Itchy! That's them up there! You told me the story-"

Head turning towards him, she glared at him and angrily said, "At least say their names right, _güero!"_ Then she gasped and covered her mouth in shock.

Alfred was shocked too. She remembered what she used to call him. She even took on the same tone! "...You used to call me that…"

Mexico looked at him with fear and confusion, and began to shake her head like she wanted to clear it. "I…I don't…" She suddenly took her head in her hands and whimpered as if in pain. Alfred wanted to grab hold of her, and try to stop whatever caused her such pain, but he too was afraid of what was happening. She cried out, "No, no, no! It hurts…_Quetzacoatl…Ixchel…Madre mia, _it's too…"

America understood. The memories of colonization were too much for her. She was remembering her past, and the pain that came with it. _It's a start…But is Teresa going to come back? The Teresa I knew?_

He thought of something. It would probably yield no results, but…it was still a part of the Teresa he, Matthew, and England knew. After all she'd given them to him mere hours before. Alfred reached up and took his glasses off, getting used to his limited vision again. But he could still see here, and that was what mattered. "Here."

She looked up at him, her eyes red, and then at the glasses in the palm of his hand. "…H-how did you get those?"

_She remembers them, at least._ "You gave them to me. You wore them for a long time, Teresa."

There was a flicker of recognition in her eyes. "That was my name…Or it still is…" She reached for the glasses slowly and picked them up with trembling fingers. She unfolded them and put them on, eyes once again framed. For a moment Alfred could swear he was looking at Teresa as she looked on the day he first set eyes on her.

Teresa's eyes widened behind the glasses, and her lips formed silent words that he didn't recognize. Then her eyes focused on him at last and he saw it. She breathed in wonder, "…Alfred."

She disappeared before Alfred could react, and all he found were the glasses folded neatly on the ground in front of him. His heart plummeted in terror and he picked them up quickly. _No. No! Where did she…?_ He looked around him and gasped audibly at what he saw.

The emptiness was filled in with colossal buildings. Alfred sat in the middle of a road, cars bypassing him as though he were not there. _What the…?_

His blue eyes looked all around him, finding Mexico in the hundreds of faces that walked down the streets. She was in their mouths, giving voice to words in Spanish. They were alive, and they had their home back!

Alfred got to his feet, pulse racing in his veins as he put the glasses back on. He could see everything clearly, including the wondrous colors and sights that drew him to Teresa. _But…is it still her?_

He turned and ran north, praying that Teresa Hidalgo would have a second chance.

_**HETALIA!**_

"Artie! Mattie!"

He couldn't contain his combined excitement and fear. Every step towards that battleground took him closer to the broken corpse that was Teresa. But she had to be alive, at least. If she still remembered him, he would be so grateful. If not, then…as painful as it was he would be able to live with that. He just knew that he couldn't stand to face a world without Mexico.

He saw their blond heads look up as he got closer to him, followed by a dark brown head. Spain was still there. Was Teresa awake yet? America ran until he came to a stop in front of Canada, who stood up to catch him in his arms. "Al! You've been hours! Are you okay?"

Giving his twin a quick hug, Alfred asked frantically, "Is she okay? Mattie, tell me she's-"

"She lives," Spain said in soft wonder. "She…just started breathing again and her injuries have healed." Alfred looked at him and saw that the man was smiling. The older nation was gazing at Teresa's sleeping face, England's hand on his shoulder.

Alfred knelt beside her, drinking in all of the signs of life. She was no longer pale, and her limbs were no longer stiff with agony. Best of all her chest was rising with steady breaths. America choked back an overjoyed sob and gently stroked her cheek. She was warm again.

Arthur was looking at him with pride when he asked, "Alfred, how did you manage this?"

"I just…helped her remember," Alfred answered with a shrug, keeping all his attention on the sleeping woman. _Open your eyes. Please, open your eyes and look at me. _It was too much to ask, but he hoped she would see him and _know_ him.

She stirred, the v appearing between her eyebrows. Alfred and Antonio leaned towards her almost at the same time, but only glanced at each other for a moment before looking back down at Teresa as she sighed.

Her eyes flickered open. Alfred's face split into the happiest smile of his entire life at the sight. _It worked…It worked! She's alive!_ He felt Matthew shake his shoulder in shared joy.

Brown orbs glanced up at them, and first focused on Antonio in recognition. Teresa softly exclaimed, "…Antonio…!" She smiled at his excited face, and it scared Alfred. Teresa knew who Spain was. Did she know everything else?

Then her eyes reached him, and her smile only grew more radiant as she looked at Alfred, her gaze reaching deep into him. "Alfred…Thought I was going to forget you, right _güero?_"

With a victorious laugh, Alfred reached for Teresa as she shot up to embrace him. Soon the pair was surrounded by three more pairs of arms, Canada, Spain, and England all laughing along with them.

They let them go after noticing that the neighboring countries had fallen silent, and then found that they were wrapped deeper in each others arms as they shared a searing kiss. When they parted their foreheads were still stuck together, brown hair mingling with golden as Alfred and Teresa gazed at each other with newfound dedication and love. She shook her head in awe and said, "You actually found me…You brought me back."

Alfred chuckled softly, rubbing his nose against hers. "It was 'cause you told me that story."

"Your version was atrocious, by the way."

He smiled and drew her to her feet, watching as her dark curls cascaded down her perfect shoulders. Antonio laughed heartily behind her and remarked, "Still the same cheeky Empire, Maite?"

She turned and smiled at the country, and shook her head. "I think I feel more like a republic now. The Mexican Republic!"

England looked at the ground thoughtfully and said after a moment, "Well that sounds…really silly, to be honest."

Mexico poked his forehead. "Well, too bad, because I'm keeping it."

All five of them laughed again, America wrapping his arms around Canada and Mexico as he gazed at his first sunrise as a true country. Smoke rose from the earth, but the sun held the promise of a future with thousands of possibilities.

The End

* * *

**(1) She's still beautiful.**

**And so, there it is. I do hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it these past three years. Once again, thank you all for sticking and your kind reviews. Thank you for taking the time for reading my take on America and Mexico, two countries that will always have a place in my heart.**

**Now excuse me while I backflip into the sun in penance.**

_**Hasta luego**_**, buddies!**


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